


A Drarry Advent Calendar

by The_Leafy_Sea_Dragon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 25 Days of Fic-mas, A bit of anxiety I mean they've been through war, Advent Calendar, Aurora Borealis, Candy Canes, Christmas Cards, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Jumpers, Christmas Movies, Christmas Shopping, Cold Weather, Decorating, Draco has a dirty mind, Draco is not impressed by this new soft side of his, Eggnog, Enchanted Mistletoe, Fluff and Angst, Gingerbread Houses, Glitter, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hogwarts Inter-House Unity, Ice Skating, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Marshmallows, Muggle Traditions, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Potter is innocent, Quidditch, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Sharing a Bed, Sledding, Sleigh Ride, Snowball Fight, Snowfall, Who am I kidding this will probably end in SMUT, Wrapping Gifts, holiday party, weasley jumper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-05 04:58:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 31,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16804078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Leafy_Sea_Dragon/pseuds/The_Leafy_Sea_Dragon
Summary: Ok, so this is an 8th year Drarry Advent Calendar, peeking in through a Hogwarts window at what December was/is like for them. I'll post 1 chapter a day leading up to Christmas day, and each day is based on a winter/xmas-writing-prompt from a few different lists I've found around the net.Not all chapters are done yet, though, so if anyone has any ideas or prompts, please let me know :)Worst case scenario: I WILL resort to smut.I'll add tags, rating and warnings (if needed) as I go.Also: this is completely un-betaed and I apologise for any mistakes. And I'm too thick to manage the formatting on AO3.





	1. December 1st - Cold Weather

**December 1st - Cold weather**

It was their last Quidditch game before Christmas, the 8th years playing Ravenclaw. It also happened to be the coldest day in the History of Cold Days and Draco was sure he was now permanently frozen stuck to his broomstick. _Marvellous._  
”Would you go on and catch the bloody snitch already, Potter,” he ground out through clenched teeth. ”I can’t very well catch it before it turns up now, can I, Malfoy?” It was only his good manners that kept him from giving Potter the finger. (That, and that his fingers were currently turned into popsicles, and just like his arse—frozen stuck to the broom.) They were, after all, playing for the same team now. Literally…and, metaphorically.  
Quidditch, and Harry, was what had saved Draco’s eight year at Hogwarts. The first weeks had been hell. When the eight-years had been given permission to form a Quidditch team Draco hadn’t even thought of trying out. He knew the Golden boy was the given seeker, and Draco was hated by the rest of the students all the same, no one would want him on the team. He didn’t need to spend hours every week where they could send Bludgers at him hoping to knock him off his broomstick, no thank you.  
It was actually Harry who had suggested that he’d try out as a chaser. _”It pains me to say it, Malfoy, but you’re a good player and we could use you on the team.”_  
Through some sort of miracle Draco managed to uncurl his fingers from the broom-handle in order to steal the Quaffle from one of Ravenclaw’s chasers. He sped past the Ravenclaw defence, narrowly avoiding a Bludger (Was that friendly fire?), feinted the Keeper, and scored. The audience burst out in boos and cheers, and Draco allowed himself a small smile. Being the most hated student at Hogwarts was exhausting, but being good at Quidditch at least had earned him some respect back.  
_”I think you should join the team, make some friends, Malfoy. You’ve been given a second chance. Take it, prove to them—to us—that you’re not who they think you are. Or that you’ve changed. Whichever it is.”_  
Harry had been right. Quidditch had been the proverbial foot in the door Draco had needed to start over, but he still had a long way to go to redeem himself. Making friends with Potter had helped some, too. _Friends_. Draco blushed slightly at the thought of just how friendly they’d become.  
Draco saw a blur of colour swoosh past him—Harry had seen the snitch. Or so he hoped, he felt seconds away from losing his family jewels to frostbite. And wouldn’t that be a tragedy.  
The crowd erupted into cheers and the game was over. ”Thank fuck for that!” Draco muttered to himself, not even caring whether it was actually Harry who had caught the snitch or if it was the Ravenclaw Seeker, all he could think about was a hot soak in the eight-years’ bath.  
Draco watched his team hug and celebrate, but didn’t join them. Even Pansy—who, to everybody’s surprise turned out to be a great Keeper—had joined in and currently had an arm slung around one of the Patil twins’ shoulders. Draco had trouble telling them apart. Harry looked up and caught his eye, but knew better than to call him over. He just grinned at Draco who smiled thinly before turning around and heading for the baths.

The eight-years’ bathroom was just as fancy as the Prefects’, and Draco loved it. Not only did they have several different taps for various bath oils and bubble baths, they also had a sauna and a jacuzzi, and no one barely ever used it. _Idiots_. Draco supposed it was because they all had showers in their rooms, but still—this was heaven.  
Feeling the holiday spirit Draco decided on a cinnamon scented bubblebath and added some vanilla oil to soften his skin. (Really, this cold was a nightmare.) He lowered himself into the bath and sighed as the hot water slowly warmed his cold, stiff muscles. _Heaven_. The door creaked open and Draco stiffened. No one ever used the baths. Had someone finally come to finish him off. Drown him in this Christmas-scented, foamy death trap? Draco didn’t blame them. Not really, but he also didn’t want to die. Draco’s heart raced. Why had he left his wand on the bench?

”Mind if I join you?” Harry sank into the bath next to him and Draco relaxed. Harry sat so close to him he could feel his skin against his own, and now his heart was racing for another reason altogether. His cheeks already flushed pink from the heat of the water turned red. This was all so new to Draco. Or, it had been going on for a little over a month, but it still _felt_ new. _It_. Whatever _it_ was.

Draco thought of stolen kisses, stubble on stubble, roaming hands, hot skin and gasping breaths. He swallowed. ”I though you’d be celebrating with the team.”  
”I will. They can wait.” Harry paused. ”You’re a part of the team, too, you know.” Draco didn’t answer, so Harry pushed on. ”You should be celebrating too. Join us.” Draco didn’t look at Potter when he said, ”They hate me.” He’d sounded more bitter than he’d intended.  
”Pansy doesn’t hate you. The twins don’t hate you.”  
”One of them sent a Bludger after me today!” Draco exclaimed. ”Maybe it was by mistake?” Potter smiled sheepishly _. Stupid Potter and his stupid smile._  
”Bones hates me”, Draco continued.  
”Well, can you blame her?”, Harry said, honestly. For some reason this made Draco feel a bit better. ”No.”  
”Ron doesn’t hate you.” Draco scoffed. ” _Anymore_ ”, Harry continued. ”He doesn’t hate you _anymore_.” Fine. Potter had a point there, they had been getting on fairly well since they'd started playing Quidditch together.  
”Still, that’s more than half the team hating me. Not to mention the rest of the eight-years. I really don’t feel like…” Harry interrupted him, ” _I_ don’t hate you, Draco.” Draco’s stomach gave a jolt. Harry’s hand came up to touch his face, curled around the back of his neck, and pulled him in for a kiss.  
Harry’s lips were hot on his and Draco instantly forgot what they were talking about. But the bliss what short-lived as Harry soon pulled back again. He didn’t let go of Draco, though. Hand still gripping the back of Draco’s neck, their lips almost brushing, Harry said, ”Come to the party. Stay for an hour. Have a drink.” Draco could feel Harry’s breath on his lips. ”What if someone poisons my drink?” Harry laughed, ”I’ll bring a bezoar”. Draco snorted. _Stupid Potter with his stupid laugh and his stupid face and his stupid soft lips._ ”Git.”  
”Is that a yes?”, Harry whispered against Draco’s mouth. ”Yes”, Draco breathed. ”But it’s your fault if I…” Harry, again, interrupted him with a kiss. This time neither pulled back.


	2. December 2nd - Snowfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco loves snow, but hates being cold.  
> Harry is warm.
> 
> Angstier than I intended.

**December 2nd - Snowfall**

Draco loved snow. He’d never admit to it, but he did. The cold, crisp air and the silence that came with it. Even the smell. Yes, snow did have a certain smell to it. He remembered once having tried to explain this to his father when he was a child, he’d never tried to tell anyone else since.

The smell was strongest at night, and looking out at the snowfall Draco was itching to get out. He looked at the clock, 3:46 am. Perfect.

Draco carefully untangled himself from Harry’s warm body, not wanting to wake him. He felt instantly cold, and was tempted to crawl back into bed and burry his face right in the spot where Harry’s neck met his shoulders.

Instead he hurriedly put on warm clothes and snuck out of the room leaving a snoring Harry behind.

The party last night hadn’t exactly been fun, but no one had tried to poison him either.Apart from Harry, Draco hadn’t really made any new friends and Pansy and Blaise were the only other Slytherins who’d come back for their eight year. They’d both changed so much. Draco guessed they all had.

It was still easier for them to fit in now, though. They hadn’t lived under the same roof as the Dark Lord, fearing He’d kill them or their parents if they in any way disappointed Him. They hadn’t taken his mark. Officially become Death Eaters. Draco felt ill, and quickly tried to re-direct his thoughts.

Essentially Blaise was still Blaise, flirting with anyone who happened to pass him within a five metre radius. He’d made the most of the new inter-house-unity and slept with half the school. _”For peace”_.

And Pansy, Pansy was as sassy and scary as she’d always been, but she also had a new anger underlining everything she did. Life had pissed her off, royally, and she was going to grabb it by the balls and give it a good twist until she felt back on track and vindicated. That’s probably what made her such a good Keeper, Draco thought—she simply scared the Quaffle away by looking at it. Draco would never in his wildest fantasies have imagined Pansy Parkinson as a Quidditch player, let alone a good one. And yet, here they were.

Another thing with Pansy was that she did everything unapologetically, and Draco secretly admired her for that. He wished he were as brave as she. He wished he had the guts to kiss Harry infront of the whole school. He wished he had to guts to even ask Harry if that’s what he wanted. He wished he had the guts to ask what he wants, what this _thing_ between them is. But Draco’s too afraid of the answer. With an uncomfortable lump in his belly and a familiar pressure building in his chest, Draco picked up the pace, heading for the front doors.

He didn’t slow down until he was outside. Draco stopped and filled his lungs with the cold night air. There, better. The memories from living at the Manor with the Dark Lord sometimes made Draco’s chest seize up, leaving him with the feeling of not being able to breathe.And more than once he’d woken up sweating, being violently ill over the side of the bed. Tonight wasn’t that bad, Draco gulped down air, trying to steady his mind.

He closed his eyes, turning his face up, into the snowfall. He breathed deeply in through his nose, and started walking towards the lake. The only sound was the soft crunch of the snow underneath his boots. He loved the quiet of a snow-covered landscape.

With every step Draco felt calmer, the pressure in his chest easing, the knot in his stomach unfurling. He took another deep breath.

On days when Draco was being unkind to himself he questioned Potter’s reasons for being with him, for speaking in his favour at the trials, for even befriending him at all. He wondered how much longer it would be before Potter woke up one day realising the impossibility of the Golden Boy hooking up with a Death Eater. Realising that there’d be no redemption for Draco Malfoy.

On days when Draco was being a bit kinder to himself he thought there might be _something_ there. A look, a touch, even an inside joke, that carried a promise of something _more_. Ugh, _something more?_ Draco was turning into a big sap.

Draco had reached the lake and stood there quietly, listening to the silence. Taking in the cold, clean, snowy scent, he wondered if he should have brought Harry. Would he have appreciated it? Would he _get_ it, or would he like his Father simply scoff and mock him, _”Snow doesn’t have a smell Draco.”_ Draco took control of his thoughts again.

He blew out a breath, watching the smoke slowly melt away. If he had brought Potter, he’d probably just pretend to be a dragon. Ridiculous man that he was. Draco smiled slightly at the thought. He shook his head at his own folly, but it turned into a shiver, the cold was starting to get to him. Slowly Draco started to walk back to the Castle and his dorm, suddenly longing for his warm bed and the person sound asleep in it.

Back in his dorm Draco quietly stripped off his clothes getting ready to slide into bed only to discover that Potter was spread-eagled across the whole of it. Damnation. He considered casting an _engorgio_ -charm, expanding the bed even more (they’d already stretched it to a King size, weeks ago) but there simply wasn’t any room for it. 

Draco wasn’t know to be a considerate person, it’s just not how he was brought up.But lately, when it came to _Stupid Potter and his Stupid Face,_ Draco found himself caring. It was annoying, to say the least. Not to mention inconvenient.

Luckily, his caring for other people still hadn’t gotten completely out of hand just yet, he was _not_ going to sleep on the couch. This was his bed, dammit. He had every right to simply push Potter out of the way. Draco crossed his arms in frustration, glaring at the bed. _He could do this._

When Potter slept, he slept like the dead. He could probably just roll him over to one side and he’d sleep right through it, none the wiser.

Standing naked next to the bed Draco was getting cold. Well, colder, he was already cold from the walk. Draco might love snow and cold air, but he hated _being_ cold. Draco decided that he distinctly did not like this new caring side of his. Frustrated he scoffed. _What was wrong with him?_

To hell with it. Draco reached for the blankets, and froze.

“Draco?” Harry said, sleepily. “What are you doing? Why are you looking at the bed as if it just offended you, your mom and the family cat?”

Draco didn’t answer. _The nerve!_ Here Draco had been freezing his arse off trying not to wake Potter, and the git had been awake the entire time? Maybe he should make Harry sleep on the couch.

“Come to bed”. Harry moved back a little and lifted the blankets for Draco. “Get in.”

Draco did. Only because he was freezing, not because Harry’s voice turned his knees into jelly. Because it definitely did not.

Harry hissed at his cold skin. “Where’ve you been?” His stupid voice, raspy with sleep, sent pleasant shivers down Draco’s spine. _Git._ He curled into Harry, seeking warmth. “I went for a walk”.

Harry hummed and pulled him closer. “Your hair smells like snow. And cold.”

Draco buried his face in the crook of Harry’s neck, it was so soft and warm, and smelled likeHarry—Hogwarts soap and broom polish, and a hint of cinnamon from their bath last night.

He sighed. Maybe Potter _did_ get it after all.


	3. December 3rd - Candy Canes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry eats a candy cane.   
> Draco does *not* have a dirty mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorrynotsorry.

**December 3rd - Candy Canes**

_What in the name of Merlin’s soggy underpants does he think he’s doing?_

Draco shifted uncomfortably in his chair in the library, sending Potter a death-glare. The idiot didn’t even notice, he just happily continued sucking on that monstrosity _,_ slowly killing Draco by doing so _. Idiot._ Draco scoffed and scowled back down at his parchment, trying to get his head straight ”Muggles and their inventions: how to cope without magic” (it was a working-title). He continued writing, _”The most common use for electricity is…”_ Potter made a particularly obscene sound and Draco lost his focus. Again.

He glared up at Potter, who, oblivious to Draco’s predicament, slurped away at his giant never-ending-candy-cane, deeply lost in his Quidditch magazine. Where did he even get a candy cane that size? And how did he sneak it past Madame Pince?

Horrified Draco watched as Harry licked his fingers and wiped them on his robes before turning the page. His still-sticky fingers leaving peppermint scented fingerprints on the paper, the pages destined to be forever stuck together. The boy who lived was a barbarian.

Draco scoffed again, a little louder this time, hoping it would convey his annoyance to the candy cane slurping idiot across from him. (It didn’t.)

The idiot next to him, however, reacted. ”What’s eating you, Ferret-face?” Draco looked at Ron in disbelief, _was he having a laugh?!_ Ron looked over at Draco’s parchment and nodded his understanding, thinking he’d figured out Draco’s source of frustration.

”Mate, at least you’ve started, I don’t even know what to write about”, he said glumly. ”And Hermione refuses to help.” At this he sent her an accusatory look, which she promptly ignored.

_Play nice, make friends._ Ugh. Draco supposed Ron wasn’t the worst. He also happened to be Harry’s best friend. Draco really should make an effort. ”You like Quidditch, write about Muggle sports,” he suggested.

Ron looked dumbstruck for a second but then he grinned at Draco. ”That’s Brilliant! Dean always goes on about that shoeball sport, I could ask him all about it. Er, thanks, Ferr..er, Malfoy.” Draco nodded curtly, and went back to his own paper.

_The most common use for electri…_ DID POTTER JUST SIGH?! Draco could swear he heard a soft little ”mhmm” escaping Potter’s lips. How are the others not noticing the way Harry’s going to town on that candy cane? Then again, the other’s didn’t have memories of Harry doing that…NO, oh no nonononoNO Draco was _not_ going down that road now.

Draconormally did not have a dirty mind, he chalked the last fifteen minutes up to the poor company he’d been keeping lately. Compared to Draco, Harry’s mind was positively filthy, and it must have rubbed off on Draco. This was all Potter’s fault.

He shook his head, trying to ignore both Potter and how uncomfortably tight his trousers were getting (Malfoys did _not_ get untimely erections in public), and focused on the essay. _”The most common use f…”_ THAT was definitely a sigh! Draco looked up and met Potter’s eyes over the table. Holding his gaze Potter licked the candy cane, sucked off the tip with a wet pop, and grinned at Draco, ”Wanna taste my candy cane, Malfoy? It _is_ quite delicious.”

_That little shit._

Draco finally lost it. He quickly gathered his stuff and stomped out of the library, thankful for the cover his wizard’s robes provided.

Back in his room, still fuming—what was Harry playing at?—Draco started to undress. He was going to have a nice, cold shower and put everything Harry Potter out of his mind. _Of all the people Draco could have fallen for, why oh why did it have to be an insufferable Gryffindork?_

Wait, _fallen for_? Draco had NOT _fallen_. Malfoys did not fall. Not down the stairs. Not off their brooms. And definitely not for stupid, green-eyed Gryffindorks with a hero-complex. And abs. What a ridiculous thought!

Draco was muttering to himself incomprehensibly, trying to wrestle his trousers off but they seemed to be stuck—his zipper wouldn’t unzip. Draco’s temper was dangerously close to a nuclear meltdown (yes he knew what that was, he was now forced to take muggle-studies, thankyouverymuch). He felt like hexing someone. He wasn’t allowed to, one little hex would land him in Azkaban for sure, due to the terms of his probation. Draco wanted to scream.

His door swung open and Harry stepped inside, all stupid grin and sticky fingers. Oh, just one good hex to wipe that stupid grin off his stupid face, it’d be worth going to Azkaban for. Draco reached for his wand.

”Need a hand?”, Potter asked, innocently.

”Fuck you. What was that _thing_ with the candy cane about? Are you trying to drive me _mad_?” Draco spluttered.

”Er...mission completed?”, Harry looked at him, obviously trying not to laugh.

”Why are you so angry, Draco? _I_ was just enjoying a seasonal sweet Ron bought me at Honeydukes, _you’re_ the one with a dirty mind.” Potter smirked. _The nerve._

No. No way. _Malfoys do not have dirty minds._

Potter stepped closer, ”Tell me, what were you thinking about that made you all hot and bothered?” He drew a finger down Draco’s flushed chest. A sticky finger. Draco caught his hand. ”Why am I angry? _Why?!_ There were people there,” Draco ground out. ”I had schoolwork to do. You kept distracting me. I had a...a...” he could barely say it, ”a hard on” he hissed angrily ”in the library. Around other people. Because of you!” Draco sputtered. ”I came here to get away from you, have a cold shower, and focus on my essay, only to discover that my fly is somehow glued stuck so I can’t even have a cold shower, and now you’re here with your sticky hands and your sticky mouth, and…and…AND I CAN’T EVEN HEX YOU.” Draco was panting hard, half from anger, half—to his annoyance—from arousal.

”Sounds like you’re having a rough day. At least I can help you with the trousers.” Harry waved his wand and muttered something. Draco’s trousers unzipped themselves. ”Better?” Harry asked.

”How did you..?” Draco did not trust Potter’s innocent expression, which he was quite right not to.

”I spelled your zipper stuck in the library”, Harry admitted.

”You what?” Draco was going to kill him.

”Well, I knew you’d get all flustered and storm off and I didn’t want you to, you know, start without me.”

_That little shit._ Draco didn’t know whether to laugh or to strangle Harry. He supposed he could do both. ”You are such a little Slytherin at times. I wasn’t going to _start_ without you. I was going for a cold shower.” _Malfoys did not… ok fine, they did._

”I promise, this’ll be a lot nicer.” Harry grinned and pushed him down on the bed. With one swift flick of the wand he’d vanished Draco’s trousers all together.

Harry’s kisses tasted of peppermint. ”D’you want to know what I was thinking about when I was eating that candy cane?” Harry whispered in his ear, hands trailing down Draco’s stomach. ”You.”

Harry’s mouth was hot on him and Draco groaned. _This idiot will be the death of him._


	4. December 4th - Decorating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The eight-years are decorating their tree.  
> Draco has a revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, another chapter that's more background than X-mas.

**December 4th - Decorating**

Draco Malfoy was falling in love with Harry Potter. And this infuriated him. It was just so incredibly annoying. Harry Potter, of all people. Ugh. His father would be delighted. Draco smirked, his father could rot in Azkaban for all he cared. (Blatant lie.)

It began on September the 1st, when Potter assigned himself as Malfoy’s unofficial bodyguard. _Saint Potter._ Following him around Hogwarts, making sure no one killed him.It continued when Potter convinced him to join the Quidditch team. To join the Golden Trio at the table for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. To join them in the library. Most times Draco declined. He didn’t need their charity, he could do quite well on his own.But little by little he was _accepted_ by most of the eight-years. He went from spat on to ignored by the rest of the school. Some of the eight-years started to not just silently accept his presence, butoccasionally acknowledged his being there by speaking to him. Granted, this was mainly due to the Quidditch team needing to actually talk to each other during practice, but still. Sometimes Draco thought that being ignored was somehow worse than being punched or hexed.

The object of his affections was currently balancing on a rickety footstool helping Dean to put lights in the tree. Post-war Hogwarts was big on inter-house unity and anything Muggle (Muggle studies was now compulsory) and the eight-years—being a mix of all four houses—had even more _teambuilding_ activities than the rest of the school. Currently, they were, on orders from McGonagall, in the common room decorating their tree. Minimum magic allowed.

Draco was still a bit awkward around the others and tried to blend in with the chair busying himself with a bowl of popcorn and some string. Apparently Muggles found popcorn on a string aesthetically pleasing and used it to decorate their homes. Nothing weird there.Draco looked over at Harry and Dean, struggling with the Christmas lights. If Harry fell and broke his neck, Draco would _kill_ him. He absentmindedly took a popcorn from the bowl to add to his garland but jabbed his finger with the needle instead. ”Blast!”

Potter turned on the footstool to look at him questioningly, Draco scowled back while sucking on his fingertip—it stung. This was all Potter’s fault. If he hadn’t been on that stool flaunting his perfect arse Draco wouldn’t have stabbed himself with a needle.He sighed at the popcorn and picked a new one, this was taking forever.

It had all started…well, Draco supposed it had started when He and Harry first met, there’s a fine line between love and hate after all, Draco still couldn’t always tell the difference. Sometimes he hated Potter _because_ he wanted him so desperately.

This _thing_ between them though, that had well and truly began with that one kiss, on a cold and rainy October evening. The kisses had become more frequent, and then they’d become _more_. Now Draco could barely remembered when he'd last spent a night alone.

Draco had been awake for hours last night thinking about their not-relationship and had realised what he already knew: he was falling fast and hard for Harry. He had tried _so hard_ to pretend that he wasn’t, been lying to himself, fighting with himself. But it was exhausting. Draco had enough battles to fight as it was, and he longed to give in. But Draco Malfoy was a notorious coward, and didn’t have the balls to do it just yet. 

Deeply lost in his own thoughts, Draco realised too late that someone had spoken to him. He looked up and saw Granger. ”Sorry, what?”

”I said, when you’re done we should spell them into some nice colours, what do you think?”

”I didn’t think we were supposed to use magic”, he said sceptically.

”Not to decorate the tree, but I don’t see any harm in improving the looks of the decorations a bit.” She smiled and added, ”not that your garlands aren’t pretty.”

Malfoy almost laughed, ”They’re horrible.” Without thinking he said, ”we could make them gold and silver, with glitter.”

Hermione looked at him in surprise

Draco shrugged awkwardly, ”It’s christmassy.”

It seemed Dean and Harry were finally done with the lights and now Pansy and the Patil twins were decorating the tree with red, green, blue, and yellow ornaments. Draco thought that sometimes the inter-house unity was a little on the nose.He and Hermione brought the now-sparkling garlands over to the tree. Draco had to admit they’d done a pretty decent job.

Draco had joined in making the decorations, but he drew the line at climbing up on the wobbly chair, risking his neck and dignity (well, what was left of it) to hang the garlands, just because they were supposed to decorate like Muggles. No thank you, he’d leave that to someone else. Maybe Blaise should do it, a good face-plant would do his ego good.

He looked around only to see Blaise shamelessly flirting with Ernie Macmillian. Draco didn’t think Ernie swung that way, but then again, Blaise had probably made more than one person question their sexuality. He shook his head smiling, and turned back, straight into Harry, who reached out an arm to steady him. They were standing so close together, too close for the common room. Draco wanted to close the distance between them and kiss Harry, but didn’t. He quickly looked around, and feeling brave, he reached for Potter’s hand letting his fingers stroke the soft skin on the back while his thumb drew a line in Harry’s palm, feeling his callouses, before he let go again. It was strange, but to Draco that small gesture felt like a victory. They looked at each other, Potter’s gaze was intense, and Draco felt like he had to break the silence, before he lost all his self-control and jumped him.

”Um.” _Um_? Draco doesn’t say _um_ or _er._ This, too, is Potter’s fault. ”Um…”, he tried again. _Merlin!_ Draco cleared his throat. Then thought better off it and just gave Harry the garlands.Harry grinned at him, and yet again braved the Chair of Death.

(The garlands really did look nice in the tree.)

”Draco, would you pass me that box from the table?” Draco gave the small box to Harry, and horrified watched as he started hanging candy canes in the tree. _Git._ Draco hoped the chair would finally give in.

Harry hung one last normal-sized candy cane, and winked at Draco. Draco blushed.

He still hadn’t quite forgiven him for the ordeal in the library yesterday, even if Harry’d done his utmost to make up for it. Draco was petty like that, and somehow Potter would pay for giving him an _erection in public_. The mere thought made Draco cringe. Maybe he’d give him a taste of his own medicine…


	5. December 5th - Writing Cards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Harry are writing Christmas cards.  
> There's glitter. Everywhere.

**December 5th - Writing Cards**

_”Dear Father,_

_Happy Christmas, I hope you’re enjoying Azkaban, and that you are getting what you deserve._

_I don’t miss you. Kiss the Dementors for me._

_Not-Love, Draco_

_P.S. I’m Shagging Harry Potter._

_P.P.S. That’s not exactly true, he’s shagging me._

_P.P.P.S. Actually, we haven’t gone quite that far yet, but we’re getting there._

_P.P.P.P.S. I’m also in love with him.”_

Draco had been fighting the urge to bang his head against the table for the past 45 minutes, trying to write a Christmas card to his Father. How do you write Christmas greetings to someone youshould probably hate, but don’t?

Draco was no longer blind to his father’s crimes or his malevolent side. All his Mother had ever done was to love and protect him. And yet, it was his Father, unobtainable as he was, who had been Draco’s biggest Hero.

Lucius had loved him, for sure. Had undoubtedly spoiled him. But nothing Draco ever did was good enough for him, and Draco did everything he possibly could to please his Father and earn his respect. He even took the Dark Mark, thinking it’d finally prove to him that Draco worthy of being his son.

Draco was angry with his Father for many reasons, but what he could never forgive was the fact that he had given up his family for the Death Eaters. Bringing the Dark Lord in to their very home, his love (or fear) of Him, greater than his love for his son and wife. That he’d now spend the rest of his miserable existens in Azkaban. That he’d left Mother alone. That Draco never wanted to set foot in the Manor again, the only place he’d called home, because too many bad things had happened there.

And in spite of all this Draco still loved him. 

”Hey, whatcha doing?” _Merlin’s balls!_ Draco quickly closed the card he’d been writing, he decidedly did _not_ want Harry to see the last line. Or the other ones, but definitely not the last.

Draco hadn’t even realised someone else had entered the common room, he’d thought he was alone.

”Writing some Christmas cards. Aren’t you sending any?”

Harry scoffed, ”Who do I have to send Christmas cards to?”

Draco shrugged, ”You probably have more people than I. What about Teddy?”

”Oh,” Harry’s face instantly lit up, ”I didn’t even think about that! Of course I’ll send Teddy a card. It is what Godfathers do, isn’t it? I could get him a fun one, which sings or changes colour or flies around the room…”

Potter looked so happy at the idea that Draco couldn’t keep from smiling, ”Hermione’s pretty good at charms, she could probably help you make one.” He hesitated, ”I mean, I could help you, too, but it won’t be as good as Hermione’s.”

”That'd be brilliant!” Harry smiled widely at him, his eyes shining with childish excitement.

”I have more blank cards in my room, let me go and get them.” Draco started to get up. ”Don’t you want to finish writing your cards first? Who were you writing to, anyway?” Harry asked.

Draco could’t even look at Harry when he answered, ”My Father. And no, I don’t want to finish it.” Before Harry could say anything, he continued, ”Actually, if you want your card to do anything but fly around the room and spew colour changing glitter everywhere, you better ask Hermione to help instead.” Then he left.

But by the time he got to his room Potter had caught up with him. ”Draco, hey! What’s going on?”

Draco turned to him and said defiantly, ”I’m allowed to write a card to my Father, you know.”

Harry didn’t seem surprised, ” _I_ know that, do _you?”_ Draco hated when Potter was right. And that stupid, soft look on his face. _Aggravating._

Potter seemed to pick up on Draco’s mood, and changed the subject, ”A flying card spewing colour changing glitter everywhere sounds perfect, I should send one to my Aunt, too.”

”I thought you hated her.”

”Oh, I do. She’s an obsessive compulsive cleaner.” Harry smiled one of his rare, evil smiles. ”A glitter-spewing card flying around the house would be her worst nightmare come true.”

Draco could’t help but laugh out loud, ”You should send her ten.”

They sat on the soft carpet in front of the small fireplace in Draco’s room. A stack of blank cards between them and three not quite successful ones in the bin. Well, three and a half, one had flown straight into the fire and Harry had been too slow to save all of it.

The cards _were_ getting better, though. Draco felt he was finally getting the hang of it.

He’d made a green and silver one this time, the Slytherin colours, and was ready to try it out.

”You ready?” He looked up at Potter, who had glitter on his nose. Potter nodded and Draco let go of the card. It flew straight up and started flapping around the room, glitter raining down on them. ”Hey, it works!” They laughed.

”Maybe I should send that one to my Father.” Potter stopped laughing, and they just looked at each other. Then Draco’s lips started twitching and suddenly they both burst out in roaring laughter. It was all too absurd: The thought of sending a flying card stuffed with glitter to Lucius Malfoy. In Azkaban. Thinking about the dementors getting sprinkled with glitter. _Joking about it._ It was all too weird.

Draco could barely breathe from laughing so hard. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed like this—it was freeing.

They were both on their backs on the floor, trying to catch their breaths. Draco looked up at the ceiling,”I hate him, you know. But he _is_ my father.” He took a deep breath, to ready himself for the last part, but Potter beat him to it.

”And you love him.” As if it were that simple. But maybe it was.

Draco turned his head to the side, to look at Harry. ”And I love him.” He snorted and looked back up at the ceiling, ”How fucked up is that.” he said, derisively.

Harry’s hand was firm on Draco’s cheek, turning his head to face him. ”It’s ok. It doesn’t have to make sense. It’d be even more fucked up if you didn’t love him at all.”

Maybe Potter was right, but Draco didn’t want to think about this anymore. ”You have glitter on your nose.”

Harry rose up on his elbow and leaned over Draco, quickly he bent down and rubbed their noses together. ”Now you do, too.” _Tosser._ Draco pulled Harry down on top of himself and kissed him.

The kisses grew steadily hotter and soon their clothes joined the cards and glitter strewn across the floor. Draco rested his head back on the carpet and let Harry take him apart.

Hours later, and covered in glitter—Draco had glitter in places one should never have glitter— they were done. They’d made no less than 15 glitter-spewing cards to send to Harry’s Aunt and Uncle, and a nicer one, shaped like a snowflake, for Teddy.

And Draco finally knew what to write in his father’s card.

_Dear Father,_

_Happy Christmas._

_I hope you’re doing well. I’m back at Hogwarts and I’ve made some new friends._

_Harry Potter is one of them. Times are changing and so am I._

_I hope you’ll someday change too._

_Love, Draco_


	6. December 6th - Muggle Traditions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The eight-years are discussing Muggle Christmas traditions, and decides to introduce one to the wizard-borns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the movie titles are completely wrong for the Hogwarts 8th year timeline, but what the hell. You only live once.

**December 6th - Muggle Traditions**

It was just after dinner and most of the eight-years were gathered in the common room, sitting in the armchairs and at the tables closest to the fire. There was a roaring blizzard out side and they could almost feel the wind through the thick stone walls. Draco looked at the tree, and again admitted that they’d done a pretty good job. He was at the table, still working on that blasted Muggle-studies essay.

”So, tell me Justin, what’s the difference between a Muggle Christmas and our Christmas. Like what traditions do you have?” Blaise was sitting a bit too close to Justin, eyes lazily gazing at him and his arm resting on the back of the sofa behind Justin’s head. Draco supposed Ernie hadn’t taken the bait the other day, then. Or he had, and now Blaise was looking for new prey, another notch in the belt.

”Well, Hogwarts Christmases are the only wizard ones I’ve experienced, and growing up our Muggle ones weren’t much different. I mean we eat the same food, have more or less the same Christmas carols, we decorate the tree, open gifts—that sort of thing.” He paused, thinking. ”Well, I suppose my family always made gingerbread houses. We started the _Finch-Fletchley Yearly Christmas Bake-off_ where we’d all try to make the best gingerbread house and the winner would be freed from kitchen-duty on Christmas Day. But my mother would get crazy competitive, and one year she ”accidentally” knocked a book from the shelf which fell and crushed my father’s house, so now we’re back to making one together again. No competition.” Blaise looked interested at him, and shifted a bit closer. ”You don’t say?” Justin’s face kept getting redder. Dracoalmost felt bad for him. _Almost_.

”Er, what about you, Hermione? Harry? Dean? Any good Muggle Christmas memories?”

Harry shrugged, ”I spent most of my Muggle Christmases in my cupboard or watching my cousin open a mountain of presents. I never got any. Until Hogwarts, Christmas wasn’t really a happy time for me. Nor were the other days of the year to be honest.”

Draco’s heart always broke a little when Harry talked about his childhood and these horrible Muggles he’d been staying with. The Dursleys should have gotten a lot worse than some enchanted, glitter-sprinkling Christmas cards. His hand itched to reach out and touch Harry. Looking around he realised that he could, and he carefully put his hand on Harry’s leg under the table. Harry startled at the touch, but soon his hand rested on top of Draco’s.

There was an awkward pause before Harry continued, ”Er, ’suppose I liked the movies that were always on around Christmas, though.”

”Oh, yes” Justin said, ”I love Christmas movies. Like ’The Grinch’ and ’Elf’ and….”

”Home Alone” Dean, Harry and Hermione said with one voice. They looked at each other and burst out laughing. Draco wondered what on Earth _movies_ were. He absolutely refused to ask, though. No need to flaunt his ignorance. Or draw unnecessary attention to himself.

”Excuse us, Muggle-enthusiasts, but what the fuck is a movie?” Pansy and the Patils had just walked in to the common room. Thank you, Parkinson.

”Oh, Hermione’s told me about this loads of times. It’s like a book but you watch it.”

”Muggles must lead such dull lives,” Pansy sighted tragically. Draco was ready to agree, though he suspected the Weasel’s grasp on, well, a lot of things, wasn’t great. And maybe _movies_ wasn’t the dullest thing about being a Muggle. 

”Ron’s explaining it all wrong.” Ha!

Hermione continued, ”A movie is like going to the theatre but it’s all been _recorded_ —think of it as a photograph that shows you a one and a half hour long story—so you can watch it in the comfort of your own home. Whenever you want, and how many times you like. You can pause it if you need a break, or rewind if you missed something. Trust me, you’d all love it!”

Draco wasn’t sure he’d love it, but he was curious.

”Ok, you know what, that’s it, tomorrow evening we’re all watching Christmas movies!”

”Er, just one problem, Dean, exactly how will we do this without a TV?”, Harry asked.

”Er, we’ll go out and get one?”

”Muggle _technology_ (was that the right word?) doesn’t work in and around Hogwarts, there’s too much magical interference.”, Draco interrupted.

”What do you know of Muggle technology, Ferret-boy?” Ron mocked.

Draco let it pass. ”I read it in ’Hogwarts: A History’. Don’t you people read?”. Hermione beamed at him and Ron and Harry exchanged some kind of look.

”You’re quite right, Draco. But, what if I magicked it to work? So it doesn’t need electricity?”

”Brilliant! But, er, doesn’t that violate the whatever-use-of-muggle-law-thingy? Uh, you know, the one my dad worked with”, Ron said.

”Unlike the car he enchanted? Which you crashed? On school grounds?” Hermione asked, eyebrow raised. ”This will be a lot safer.” Draco recognised that determined look on her face, when Granger set her mind to something, she was relentless. ”Dean, get me a TV for tomorrow and I’ll have it up and working in no time!”

”Yes, ma’am”, Dean saluted Hermione, and stood up, drawing everyones’ attention.

”Ok, folks, listen up. If we’re doing this we’re doing it properly. I’m talking Christmas movie marathon extravaganza: junk food, blankets, pillows and jammies. I and Seamus will take care of the TV and movies. I can floo home and get mine. Who will be responsible for the food? Some muggle-borns please, who knows what wizard pizza is like.”

”I’ll do it,” Harry said, ”Pizza and Chinese? Hermione, I know you grew up with dentists, but you still know your way around Muggle sweets, don’t you?” Hermione nodded. ”Good, you’re in charge of the sweets then, maybe some popcorn and crisps, too. Oh, and Coke!”

Draco, Blaise, Ron, and the rest of the wizard-borns had watched this exchange in stunned silence.

What the fuck is _pizza_? And _Chinese_ is definitely a nationality. And Coke? Draco didn’t even want to guess. Popcorn Draco was familiar with, after stringing about a billion of them together the other day. But if Potter thought he’d spend an entire Friday night making more popcorn garlands he was out of his tree.

”Excellent,” Dean said,”So, non-muggle-borns, you’re in charge of getting the furniture in order. Conjure up some beanbags, pillows, and blankets. Enlarge the sofas. Whatever needs to be fixed—fix it.”

”Will do!” Blaise turned to Justin again, ”So movies are watched, in the dark. Under blankets? In ones pyjamas?”

”Um, yeah, that’s the best way to watch them. Why?”

”Oh, nothing” Blaise answered airily, and winked at him. Justin kept blushing. Draco was willing to bet money on it: Come Saturday morning, Finch-Fletchley would find himself waking up next to Blaise.

Harry’s warm hand was still covering Draco’s under the table. Draco thought about spending Friday night under a blanket. With Potter. In a dark room. He decided that this was one Muggle tradition he was willing to try.


	7. December 7th - Christmas-Movie-Marathon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The eight-years watch Christmas Movies.  
> Everyone is gay. Or pan.  
> That's pretty much it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added a tiny bit of Harry's POV in this. I intended to give Draco and him every other chapter...but that obviously didn't happen. So I guess I'll just sneak him in every now and then, instead.

**December 7th -Christmas-Movie-Marathon**

As promised, Dean had managed to get his hands on a TV and a DVD-player by the end of classes on Friday, and Hermione had them working 15 minutes later. Potter and Hermione had gone into Hogsmeade and Apparated to the closest Muggle town for food and snacks. The ”Pizzas” and the rest of the food were now sitting on the table in front of the TV in the common room, kept magically heated by one of Hermione’s clever little spells.

When the rest of the eight-years had gotten the common room ready, Draco had helped a little with the furniture. He had turned a love-seat into a double chais lounge, wishing that he could snuggle up with Harry in it, like the other couples inevitably would do, but he knew better. He sighed and sat down heavily, a plate with a ”pizza slice” in one hand and a ”coke” in the other — Muggle food came in weird packaging—boxes and tins. The pizza did smell pretty nice though…

”Room for one more?” Draco’s stomach gave a jolt as Harry sat down next to him. He was wearing pyjama bottoms and an old Gryffindor jumper, Draco had thought Dean was joking when he suggested they’d all wear their pyjamas to the movie night, but looking around it seemed most of them were. 

Potter had loaded his plate with 6 slices of pizza, and started digging in straight away. Eating with his _hands._ Draco looked at him dubiously. Was this how you were supposed to eat pizza or was this an other case of Potter the Barbarian? _Or_ was this how all Muggles ate and thereby an explanation to Potter’s uncultivated table maners? Had he not seen cutlery before Hogwarts? It would explain a lot.

”Go on, try it.” Harry urged him. ”What are you waiting for?” _Cutlery?_

Draco quickly looked around and lifted the plate closer to his face—it smelled divine. After a second of hesitation—he _hated_ getting sticky—he bravely took the slice in his hand and took a small bite. _Merlin’s beard_ , it was delicious! Potter watched Draco eat, and grinned at his expression. Draco summoned another slice instantly.

Dean and Hermione had become the unelected leaders for the Muggle-movie-night and they were now standing beside the TV, trying to get everyone’s attention.

”Ladies and Gentlemen, Witches and Wizards”, Dean paused dramatically ”you are now to partake in one of the finest Muggle Christmas traditions. We have ’The Grinch’. We have ’Love actually’. We have ”Elf”. But first of all, we will start with this classic movie about a small boy, tragically forgotten by his family at Christmas, left to fend for himself against robbers and burglars in the scary City of New York. Please keep talking and kissing-noises to a minimum” at this he gave Ron and Hermione, and Blaise and Justin (who, surprise to no one, shared a sofa) a stern look. ”And to our Muggle-movie-virgins: please be advised, that what happens in the movie _is not real._ Um, and to our regular virgins: many a virginity has been lost during movie nights, but please keep in mind: this is _not_ your lucky night. At least not as long as you’re staying in the common room. So, without further ado, I present to you ”Home Alone”. With a flick of their wands, Dean turned out the lights, and Hermione turned on the TV.

Draco had never seen a Muggle movie before, and it was amazing. There were tiny people. Moving around. In a tiny world. Inside this little box. Draco could not believe it wasn’t magic. How else would it work? He took another bite of pizza, eyes unable to leave the screen.

Draco was startled from his movie induced trance at Harry’s touch. Harry had discreetly overlapped his blanket with Draco’s and Draco felt a warm hand gripping his. His heart skipped a beat and he smiled. This was going to be a good night.

***

Harry reached for Draco’s hand under the blanket. Handholding in public—apart from last night, this was uncharted territory (even if it was under a blanket in a dark room). They’d been seeing each other secretly since October. Harry didn’t mean for it to be a secret, that’s just how it started and, well, they’d never really talked about it. Harry didn’t want for it to be a secret anymore, but it wasn’t just up to him, this was Draco’s choice, too. But Harry was tired of sneaking around, and now he badly wanted to pull Draco down on the sofa next to him, stretch out and cuddle up under the blankets. Hold him while they were watching stupid movies. He wished he had his invisibility cloak instead of a blanket.

Draco twinned his fingers with Harry’s and Harry relaxed a little.

By the time Kevin’s mom had realised she’d forgotten her son at home Harry’s hand had found its way to Draco’s leg. The shape and feel of it now familiar, and he started tracing circles with his fingertips. Slowly working his way up and down Draco’s thigh.

By the time one of the burglars got torched, they’d both sunken deeper into the sofa, their sides pressed tightly together and Harry’s fingers were working on the top button on Draco’s trousers. (Who wore those kind of trousers to a movie marathon, Harry wondered. Had he completely missed the dresscode? Pyjamas—soft, comfortable, and easy access!)

***

Well, shit. Harry’s hand was hot against Draco’s skin, resting against his stomach while working on getting his trousers undone. Draco really should stop him, they were in a room full of people for Merlin’s sake! _He could not have two erections in public in one week._ But this was different from the other day in the Library, then he’d been freaking out. Now he felt completely relaxed,

it just felt so..nice. It wasn’t the urgency with which they’d sometimes tear each other’s clothes off, this was different. Lazy, almost. _Languorous_.

”Oi, you two!” Draco and Harry flew apart. But Dean wasn’t looking at them, he was pointing at _Pansy and one of the Patil twins?_ Draco should have know. ”Keep the kissing down, I can’t hear the movie.”

Pansy, locked eyes with Dean while she noisily kissed the Patil—how do people keep them apart?—theatrically adding a moan and a sigh. Then she smiled sweetly at him, flipping him off. _Drama queen._ Dean rolled his eyes and turned up the volume.

Draco didn’t dare look at Harry. He wished he were as ballsy as Pansy. Not as _vulgar_ , no.

His first public kiss with Potter would have to be tasteful. It would be soft. No visible tongue, hands in safe-zones—acceptable ones: face, back of the neck or _lightly_ resting on the hips _._ There would be no groping, grabbing or groaning around other people.

New Years, Draco decided, New Years was an excellent time for public kissing. That’d leave him another 3 weeks to plan. And muster up some courage. There might be a potion for that…well, there is actually, he realised: champagne! Excellent: classy, and socially acceptable to drink on New Years Eve. 

Draco felt for Harry’s hand again, intertwining their fingers. He glanced over at Harry, who was already looking at him. Harry smiled and squeezed his hand. Draco squeezed back.

For now he had an entire evening of this ahead of him, and after he’d get Harry all to himself. He shifted closer to Harry, and watched the rest of the movie.

Hours later Draco woke up halfway through the third movie, Harry gently nudging him. Disoriented and head still resting on Harry’s shoulder, Draco looked around groggily. It seemed a few people had already left but most were still there—sleeping in their chairs, beanbags and sofas. Who’d have thought movies such a potent sleeping draught? They snuck out of the common room and in to Draco’s bedroom, where they spend most of their night now. Mainly because it was where they were less likely to be disturbed—no one ever came looking for Draco.

Draco was dead tired, and simply vanished his clothes and crawled into bed. The sheets were ice-cold against his skin, but soon a warm body was pressed agains his, strong arms pulling him close.

”So, how did you like the movie marathon?”, Harry murmured against the back of his neck.

Draco fell asleep before he could answer.


	8. December 8th - Bundled up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a blizzard outside.  
> The bed is a good place to stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me 8 days to resort to smut, not too bad, so here we go...
> 
> No, really, it IS a teeny-tiny bit of smut, but nothing too explicit and like, blink and you'll miss it. 
> 
> BUT in case that isn't your thing, I thought I'd give everyone a heads up to maybe give this chapter a miss.

**December 8th - Bundled up**

When Draco woke up the blizzard was still roaring outside, and his nose—the only thing sticking out from underneath the duvet—was ice cold. Draco pressed the icy tip against Harry’s shoulder and pulled the covers over his head, he had absolutely no intention of leaving his bed today. All the heating spells in the world wouldn’t be enough to warm up Hogwarts on a day like this. 

He thought about Pansy’s little show last night and of Blaise shamelessly feeling up Finch-Fletchley right there, smack bam in the middle of the common room. Draco wasn’t a prude, he was just very private about… _it_. He knew things. He’d done things. He just didn’t need everyone to see it.

When he and Harry first started seeing each other the little knowledge Draco had had simply been theoretical, and even that was meagre—sure, he knew basic anatomy and where all the important bits were and…went, but that was hardly enough. So he’d Owled in 7 different books on everything from _Wizard anatomy—truly magical spots and where to find them_ to _Lubricantus and other useful spells for the bedroom_ , stole a _magazine_ from Blaise, and spent nights on end studying. Since then his studies had become more and more practical. Though, if Harry ever found out where Draco had learned it all, he would die of shame. He kept the books well hidden under a concealment charm and a pile of robes in his bottom drawer. Not that he’d ever have to worry about Harry opening it. Potter considered the floor his wardrobe, apparently he thought life was too short for folding or hanging clothes.

Potter started to come to life next to him and Draco’s attention immediately shifted from the Harry in his mind to the Harry in his bed. His body responding to every single millimetre where Harry’s skin touched his. He turned his head a little, and met one green eye peering up at him, the other one still firmly shut and squashed against the pillow. 

”Morning, sleepyhead,” Draco smirked a little, fingers slowly trailing up and down Harry’s spine. Potter closed his eye again, ”Some of us didn’t sleep through all the movies, you know.”

”I watched the movies!”

”No, you watched _a_ movie. And then perhaps 10 minutes of the second. The rest of the time you were sound asleep, drooling on my favourite shirt.” Draco blushed furiously. ”I most certainly did not!”

Harry grinned into the pillow, ”You most certainly did.” He turned his head and looked at Draco, ”You can go and check for yourself, my shirt probably won’t be dry again until April.” _Wanker._ He tried to hide it at best he could but really, Draco was horrified. Had he drooled? In public? _On_ Potter nonetheless. He would never hear the end of this.

”Liar. And, I definitely saw the second movie.” Draco would admit to nothing, he’d go down swinging.His fingers kept stroking Potter’s back, slowly wandering lower.

”Ok, fine. What was it about?” _Blast!_

Draco glared petulantly at Harry, ”I don’t remember _exactly_ , which proves nothing! Even if I was asleep—which I wasn’t—it doesn’t mean I drooled on you. Draco Malfoy does not drool.”

Harry just kept grinning stupidly, ”How’d you know? You were asleep.”

Draco ignored the question, something else had just occurred to him, his hand froze. ”Did anyone see me sleeping on your shoulder?” Harry stopped smiling. ”Would it matter?”

And there it was again, that familiar knot in the pit of Draco’s stomach. He swallowed, and said with feigned indifference and a challenging look at Harry, ”You tell me.” Draco’s heart felt cold in his chest. He shouldn’t have said that. What if Harry said yes. _Ignorance is bliss_ and all that _._

”No.” And there was that stupid grin again. Draco couldn’t help but smile back. Again, something seemingly insignificant that felt very important had happened between them.

Draco’s hand had started moving again, down Harry’s side. Feeling the muscles covering his ribs, the soft skin on the side of his stomach, the peach fuss on his well-sculpted arse. (Really, Quidditch training worked wonders for ones physique.)

They kissed and kissed and kissed. Slowly, with a firm hand on the back of Harry’s thigh Draco guided it across his own stomach, pulling Harry on top of him. Draco’s heart sped up, his hand finding its way back to Harry’s arse.

Their bodies pressed together, moving against each other. Draco’s fingers circling, prodding, slipping inside. Again he was completely lost in the feeling of Harry’s body against him. Around him. Hot, slick, soft, and hard, all at the same time. 

Their movements became more erratic, their kisses more desperate. Draco’s lungs were about to explode. Then, they did.

Sweaty and panting, still intertwined, Draco cast a cleaning spell on both them (those books really had been worth every sickle). Draco had accepted that love-making required a certain level of _messiness_ , and even liked it, but after, there was absolutely no reason to endure the stickiness for longer than necessary.

He shivered. The wind was howling outside, rattling the windows. Draco could barely make out the Forbidden Forest through the snow, he really didn’t want to leave the bed. But. ”I suppose we should go and get some breakfast.” He reluctantly started to untangle himself from Harry.

”Not yet,” Harry said, half in question. ”I can go and get us something, soon. Let’s just stay in bed for a bit longer.” Draco wasn’t hard to convince, and he sank back down against the pillows.

”Would you read me something,” Harry asked and snuggled closer, pulling the covers tighter around both of them. ”Something christmassy. Or wintery.”

Draco thought for a bit and then summoned a book from his shelves. It was an old battered volume of _Winter-night fairytales_ his mother used to read to him when he was little. It just occurred to him then that Harry hadn’t had anyone to read him fairytales or good-night stories when he was a child—those horrible Muggles certainly hadn't. The thought made Draco's heart squeeze painfully. Draco flipped through the pages until he found his favourite. With his fingers running softly through Harry’s hair, Draco started reading the tale of Morozko, the King of Frost.


	9. December 9th - Snowball fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quidditch practice turns into a full blown snowball war.  
> It's all Potter's fault.

**December 9th - Snowball fight**

The two day long blizzard was finally over, and Hogwarts woke up to blue skies and sunshine.

The Quidditch season might be over but that didn’t mean they’d stopped practicing, and on a beautiful day like this they were all itching to get out on their brooms.

Their first game of the spring season would be against Gryffindor, captained by the evil She-Weasel herself. She was Harry’s ex-girlfriend and Draco hated her on principle, secretly he thought she was brilliant. Tough and intelligent, no one in their right mind would mess with her.

Draco wasn’t sure what was worse: The Weaslette and Pansy becoming friends, or the two of them on opposite teams in their upcoming game. It was going to be a blood bath. At least they weren’t beaters.

Draco ducked and a snowball whizzed right past his left ear, curtesy of the Redheaded Devil herself.

Today’s practice had started out well. (Apart from Bones almost succeeding in knocking Draco off his broom, but who could blame her—her entire family had been murdered by Death Eaters. The fact that she hadn’t killed him yet was a victory in itself.)

Now, though, the practice had gotten completely out of hand. A full on snowball war was raging and for once something wasn’t Potter’s fault. It was Hermione’s. And ok, maybe a little bit Harry’s.

Hermione wasn’t on the team, but she thought it a good idea to enchant a snowball to fly around for Harry to catch since they couldn’t let loose a real snitch. It wasn’t a bad idea.

But every time Potter made to catch it, Hermione blew it up in his face. Draco was really starting to like her.

Harry’s temper soon got the better of him, and he tried to get back at Hermione, only to hit Pansy right in the face with his snowball instead. Draco cringed when he saw it happen—Harry had poked the bear, time to fly for cover.

To Draco’s horror this was also the moment that the Gryffindor team decided to show up at the pitch. Pansy’s snowball hit Ginny in the back of her neck, and like that all hell had broken loose.

No one seemed to be on the same team, it was chaos with 20 personal vendettas happening at the same time, and Draco was right in the line of fire.

A rogue snowball caught him in the back of his head and Draco instantly changed his mind. This _was_ Potter’s fault. Who misses their target by that much and manages to hit Pansy? Draco felt a trickle of icy water and snow down his spine—Potter was going down! Draco spun around in the air, looking for the Golden boy. The coward was hovering close to the ground, watching the mayhem and destruction he’d started, safely from the sidelines. _Git._

The Patil twins furiously exploded snowballs with their bats sent on them by the Gryffindor team, and Bones. (Seems she had it in for everyone.) Ginny and Pansy were chasing each other on their brooms, laughing and cursing. Pansy really had a foul mouth and Ginny seemed hellbent on cleaning it out with snow. Draco would not get in their way.

He dove towards Harry, with every intention of knocking him off of his broom. But at the last second Harry looked up and saw him coming. Realising that his choices stood between getting knocked off the broom by Malfoy or fly straight into pandemonium, Harry went for the Muggle solution—he jumped off the broom and ran for it. Laughing. _Idiot._

Draco did the same, as soon as he was close enough to the ground he jumped off his broom and ran after Harry. Harry was the fastes flyer but Draco could _run._ In a heartbeat he’d caught up with Harry and he threw himself at him. Harry fell over and Draco pushed him down in the snow.

”Did you think you could start a snowball fight like that and then just get away? Did you think you could outrun me, Potter?” Harry was on his back in the snow and Draco straddled him, pinning his hands above his head.

”Maybe this is exactly what I wanted.” He smiled and moved his hips a little, and Draco realised just what they must look like. _Shit._

They were both panting from laughing and running, but now it felt different. Draco was tempted to lean in a little closer, to brush his lips against Harry’s. To grind down just a little.

”Don’t try and distract me, Potter.”

”I’m ’Potter’ again now, am I? That’s not what you were calling out last night…” _The nerve!_ Blushing, Draco summoned a snowball from the ongoing fight, and quick as weasel he got it in under Potters shirt.

Potter shrieked. Draco laughed. Oh, this was fun. Draco summoned another snowball.

Twenty minutes later, hair and clothes dripping with melting snow, cheeks and ears rosy from the cold, the Quidditch teams returned to their respective common rooms. Draco was exhausted and his fingers ached from the cold, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed this much. And not just with Harry but with some of the others, too. Maybe there was still hope. Maybe this inter-house unity served him, too.

”Oi, Gryffindorks and Puffys, Ravennerds, and Noble Slytherins. Let’s meet back here in 20 for that last Christmas movie shall we, before Seamus steals the TV so he can watch _porn_ in his room.” Pansy. Of course. ”Don’t forget the dresscode: pyjamas.” Blaise opened his mouth as if to say something, but Pansy held out a hand and stopped him. ”Yes, yes, we _know_ you sleep naked, Blaise, thank you. But you do _own_ pyjamas,” she said impatiently, ”wear ’em. No one wants to see your scrawny, naked arse.” Blaise glared at her. ”Someone fix us some food, I’m having a shower. Ta.” And with that she left the room.

The rest of the eight-years looked at each other and shrugged, it wasn’t a bad idea. The few who hadn’t been out in the snow were sent to the kitchens and the rest headed for their rooms and showers to get warm and changed.

This time Draco wore his green silk pyjamas to the common room. It had nothing to do with the buttons on his trousers getting in the way on Friday. Absolutely nothing. He was simply following the dresscode. Potter was already sitting in the same chaise lounge as last time, and Draco sat down next to him. Feeling oddly exposed in the thin fabric of his pyjama bottoms he pulled a blanket over himself. The table had been filled with tea, scones, treacle tart, bowls of stew, and freshly made bread. Draco was starving, and he got up again to help himself to some food. (Summoning hot stew was risky.)

Draco had enjoyed the movies on Friday quite a bit, and was looking forward to seeing another one now. And if his or Harry’s hands wandered a bit, it was just a bonus. But something that Pansy said had been bugging him. Draco hated admitting to not knowing things others seemed to know, but waiting for the last few people to arrive, Draco turned to Harry and asked, ”What’s _porn?_ How come Seamus can’t watch it out here. _”_

Harry choked on his treacle tart and his ears turned red, ”Er..” Draco looked at him earnestly, waiting for an explanation. ”Er…” Harry looked flustered, and for some reason Dean was howling with laughter.

Just then Pansy, Blaise, and Finch-Fletchley finally arrived and Harry muttered, ”I’ll explain later.”

Still laughing, Dean got up to present the movie. He wasn’t as dramatic this time around, ”Ok, you dolts. We’ll be watching ’The Grinch’, at least _try_ and stay awake this time. And no funny business, these are blankets, not invisibility cloaks.”

The movie started and Draco’s hand searched for Harry’s under the blankets. When Harry’s hand eventually made it to his waistband, Draco was pleased with his choice of clothing.


	10. December 10th - Mistletoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An enchanted mistletoe follows Harry around.  
> All of Hogwarts wants to kiss the Golden Boy.  
> Draco is NOT impressed.

**Monday December 10th - Mistletoe**

It was the second to last Monday before Christmas break, meaning it was also the second to last Herbology class of the year. Draco wasn’t a fan of Herbology, he hated getting his hands dirty. He was a wizard for crying out loud, not a gardener. He morosely inspected the black rim under his fingernails while Professor Sprout went on and on about the proper way of re-potting the damned weeds.

Harry caught his eye over the table, and grinned. Dracos temper improved drastically. Of course, the idiot had a streak of dirt across his forehead. His hands itched to reach out and brush it off, but he knew better than to do that in public. Merlin, Potter had managed to get some leaves stuck in his hair, too, it seemed. Draco shook his head. _Idiot._

Wait, how had he managed that? Draco looked up again, closer this time. That wasn’t the plant they’d been re-potting, that was mistletoe. And now Draco saw that it wasn’t stuck in Potter’s hair, rather hovering just above it.

Had Professor Sprout lost her mind? Hanging mistletoe around her classroom? What was she thinking? What if someone kissed Harry. Draco’s good mood evaporated.

He knew Harry had plenty of admirers, especially since after the war. He’d seen the _looks_ people sent him. He’d seen some letters people sent him, too. Some of which made Draco blush.

Harry just laughed them off.

Draco stiffened as one of the Patil twins giggled and kissed Harry on the cheek when she discovered the mistletoe. Harry just laughed and—what he must have thought discretely—wiped his cheek with the sleeve of his robes. 

Draco couldn’t wait to get out of the greenhouse and away from the mistletoe. When Sprout called the end of lesson he quickly gathered his things, grabbed Harry’s arm and pulled him along. ”Let’s go or we’ll be late for…” Draco was interrupted by a giggle. Pansy, the backstabbing witch, stopped them. ”Is that mistletoe, Harry? That calls for a kiss, does it not?” Draco, horrified, watched as his _former_ best friend stood on her toes to kiss Harry. On. The. Mouth. _Oh, that…that woman._ Draco was seething. He closed his eyes and counted to ten, just as his therapist had told him. It did not help. _Blast!_

They needed to get out of the greenhouse. Now. Draco would personally come back and incinerate the rest of the mistletoes during lunch break.

”Come _on.”_ He pulled Harry’s arm again. ”We’ll be late.”

”Er, for what?”, Harry asked.

_Idiot._

Really, sometimes Draco wondered why he’d put up with this obtuse slob.

”Muggle studies”, Draco replied curtly. They crossed the lawn in silence.

When they reached the school, Draco, to his horror, discovered that the mistletoe still hovered above Harry’s head. _What the..?!_

 _”_ Why is that mistletoe still hanging above your head?” Harry looked up. ”Oh, right, look at that. Dunno, guess someone enchanted it?”

”Obviously.” Draco answered cooly, ”but who? Did you do it yourself?” Harry just looked at him. ”Draco, why on Earth would I enchant a fucking mistletoe to follow me around school?!” He looked more bewildered than exasperated. Draco didn’t have time to answer before a group of fifth-year girls walked past and squealed at the sight of Harry and the mistletoe. Two of them stepped forward to simultaneously kiss Harry on his cheeks before the quickly walked away, giggling.

”That would be why”, Draco said, sourly and started walking away. Harry and the mistletoe followed. ”Draco, you can’t seriously think I’d _want_ that?!” But before he could catch up with him Harry was hindered by yet another group of giggling girls wanting to kiss the Golden boy.

Things only got worse as the rumour of The Chosen One wandering the halls of Hogwarts with a mistletoe above his head, spread. By lunch Draco was on his last nerve. At least Harry _had_ tried several spells to disenchant the damn thing, and Draco had helped. Ron, on the other hand had simply laughed, ”Mate”, he gasped through fits of laughter, ”seems like something you could buy at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes.”

”Like those love potion-chocolates sent to me by Romilda Vane? That _you_ accidentally ate? And in a way almost lead to your death?” Harry asked. Ron sobered a little at that. All Draco could think now was: _Who the fuck is Romilda Vane?_

”Mate, I’ll send an owl to George and ask how to lift the enchantment. It’s probably just a 24 hour thing anyway, but I’ll ask.”

 _24 hours?_ It had only been 3 and Draco was about to kill someone. He counted to ten again.

Ok, fine, he knew what to do. He’d bring Harry to his room and just simply keep him there until tomorrow morning. He’d tell their professors they’d both become ill. Yes, that was a good plan. He was just about to share this with Harry when the Hufflepuff Keeper— _ew_ —came up to them.

”Hiya, Harry. Er, so about that mistletoe” he laughed nervously and wet his lips, ”do you…” Draco saw red, and before he knew what he was doing he’d shoved Harry behind himself and drawn his wand, pointing it at the Keeper, yelling ”I WILL HEX YOU!” The boy scrambled backwards in shock. The great hall fell silent. Draco turned to all of them, ”I will hex anyone who even _thinks_ about kissing Potter. I am excellent at legilimency. Do not test me.” Complete silence.

Great, the Azkaban guards should be here in an hour. Draco turned to Harry and shrugged helplessly. Then he grabbed Harry’s robes and pulled him in for a kiss. Surprised, Harry stiffened, but then Draco could feel his lips turn to a smile under his and Potter kissed him back. Strong arms closing around him, pulling him closer. Draco felt himself relax a bit, too, and leaned into Harry.

Harry pulled back a little, ”Idiot”, he murmured against Draco’s lips. Draco could only agree. So much for a discrete and classy New Year’s Eve kiss.

When they eventually came out of their bubble they could hear cheering and cat-calls. Draco looked over at the table where Hermione, Pansy, and the She-Weasel sat—the unholy trinity. Avoiding the looks of the other students, Harry and Draco awkwardly made their way over to their _hooting_ friends.

”Er.” Harry said.

Hermione jumped up and hugged both of them. ”Oh, I’m so happy for you. And I can finally say it.”

”Er.” Harry said, again.

”We knew. We’ve known for ages.”

”Er. How?”

Ron snorted. ”Mate, you’re not exactly discreet. The excuses you’d come up with…”

”Not to mention _the looks”_ Ginny said.

”Ugh, the _looks_ ” Pansy agreed dramatically. ”It was getting unbearable.”

”Yes, so we had to do something” Hermione admitted.

”Do something?” Harry asked, suspiciously. Draco, who’d cottoned on a lot faster than Harry, nearly rolled his eyes at how thick he could be at times.

 _Three…two…one…_ ”Hermione!” Harry exclaimed. ”Did you enchant that mistletoe? I’ve had half the bloody school following me around, trying to kiss me! I had to hide in the broom closet, missing half my classes!”

”It wasn’t me.” She said and shrugged. ”It was Ginny.”

Draco snorted, ”I should have know, it had ’evil’ written all over it.”

Ginny winked at him, ”The idea was Hermione’s and Pansy’s, I just executed it” she said with a wicked smile.

”Anyway, you’re welcome”, Pansy said.

”I’m welcome?” Harry asked, dubiously.

”After Drama-Queen-Draco’s little show I doubt any one will try and snog you. Also, you’re official now so no more sneaking around. So yeah: You’re. Welcome.”

”Just, no shagging in the com…Ow, Hermione!” She’d popped the back of Ron’s head.

Harry grinned innocently and reached for Draco’s hand. Draco, already blushing, smiled and took it.

His day had improved vastly.


	11. December 11th - Northern Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their kiss is all over the Prophet.  
> The un-holy trinity has a plan.

**December 11th - Northern Lights**

Draco glared down at the Daily Prophet. He had expected this since the very beginning. It had been one of the reasons he’d want to keep their relationship a secret. They had been out as a couple for less than 24 hours and it was already all over the Wizarding World.

Some twat had run straight to the Prophet after their kiss yesterday, someone had even managed to snap a picture. (Draco would save that for a rainy day).

This was _not_ how he’d planned on coming out to his parents. He vaguely wondered which his Father would find worst—him being with a man or that man being Harry Potter. Draco suspected the latter. His mother would be fine with it. Draco had a feeling she somehow already knew.

Draco kept staring at the picture, the kiss repeating itself over and over and over again, there for all the Wizarding community to see, and be delightedly horrified by. Draco’s scowl deepened.

The rumours would start. _Malfoy has Potter under the Imperius curse. Potter has always been on Voldemort’s side. The Ministry was right to mistrust Potter. Potter’s testimony in the trials should never have been trusted. Undesirable no 1 has found his match._ And so on, no one ever suggesting that Draco had left the Death Eaters and joined ”the good side”. _There’d be no redemption for Draco Malfoy._

The happiness Draco had felt since yesterday was slipping away, and he was so, so tired. All he wanted was to be left alone.

Harry looked at him over the breakfast table. ”What’s wrong?”

Draco simply handed him the newspaper. To Draco’s astonishment, Harry grinned. ”Oh, we should frame this.” Draco looked at him in disbelief.

Potter sighed, ”We knew this was coming, sooner or later. I’d tell them all to fuck off, if I didn’t think that’d only make it worse.”

”Or,” cut in Hermione, ”Or, you could take control of the situation before they get to set the tone for this. Beat them to it. Turn it around in your favour.”

”How?,” Draco wondered, curiously. By now he knew to trust Hermione’s mind.

”Give them an exclusive interview.”

Draco doubted his decision to trust Hermione after all.

”Er, forgive me, Hermione, but we tried this once before. Remember how that worked out? Yeah, thanks but no thanks. I’d rather give them the finger.”

”No, listen. Give them, or perhaps the Quibbler, an exclusive interview. Give them a _love story_.Even better: a forbidden love story. You know how much people love Romeo and Juliet. Give them that, um, sans suicide. We’ve just been through war. People want something to root for, something hopeful.”

_Huh, maybe she wasn’t wrong after all._

Harry looked at her sceptically, and then at Draco, ”What d’you reckon?”

”It can’t make it worse, can it?” Draco immediately cringed, ”Hold on, no, don’t answer that. Of course it could make it worse. No offence, but Potter, you don’t always have a brain-to-mouth filter.”

Ginny and Hermione laughed, ”You don’t say.”

Harry sighed indignantly, ”I just wish they’d leave us alone.”

”Me too.” Draco added quietly. He felt horrible dragging Harry through this. The world wouldn’t care half as much if it weren’t for Draco’s past.

”So tell them that, you dolts.” The She-Weasel.

”Er, Hermione just said it’d get worse if I told 'em to stuff it.”

Pansy shook her head. ”Ever heard of _nuances_ , Scar-hear?” It was weird—and a little unsettling—watching the un-holy trinity work their evil minds together.

Ginny snorted, ”The Boy Who Lived isn’t exactly famous for his subtlety, Pans.” _Pans?_ Draco started to wonder if he’d taken the wrong door on his way into the Great Hall and entered some kind of parallel universe. But then again, he supposed he’d must have since he—Draco Malfoy— was now officially Harry Potter’s boyfriend. 

_”_ You need to tell these people to fuck off with out them noticing.” Pansy continued. Harry squinted at her. ”If you do it right, they might even thank you for it.” Potter stared blankly at her. _Well, at least he’s pretty._

”She means,” Ginny clarified, ”you give them a love story. And you better make it good, it better be a long hard fucking struggle, and _pure love_ —no dirt—broken people finding their way back to life through each other.” Draco thought it sounded exactly like _their_ story. ”And then, BAM, you don’t tell them to fuck off, you don’t beg them to leave you alone. You _thank_ people for understanding that you need privacy. You _thank_ them for their love and support and for leaving you alone. And they will.”

Potter didn’t look convinced, but Draco though they were on to something. Perhaps she’d oversimplified it a little, but it was still worth a try.

”I think we should do it.” Draco sounded surer than he felt. ”Harry?”

”Ok, fine, but I won’t speak to that Skeeter woman.”

”Why don’t you just tell Luna your story and she can owl it to her father. He’ll publish it for sure, and Luna will let you read through the article before she sends it. You’ll be in full control of what they print.”

Draco’s stomach knotted a little at that. Loony Lovegood. He’d—well, his father and the Dark Lord really, but still—kept her prisoner at the Manor. Kept her locked up in the cellar. And yet, she had never said a nasty word to Draco. She’d been the first to forgive him. ” _I see you, Draco Malfoy_ ” she’d said. Draco would never be able to repay her. Or forgive himself. 

”I have History of Magic with her after lunch, I’ll ask her about it,” Ginny said.

Luna had contacted her father through the floo-network and he had immediately agreed to publish an extra issue on Thursday. Luna would overnight-owl him the interview as soon as they were ready.

To get some privacy they’d locked themselves into Harry’s room (it didn’t seem as private as Draco’s, since they barley ever stayed in it) with a self-refilling teapot and a plate of gingersnaps.

They spent hours giving Luna their story. They needed people to see Draco in a different light, and he got to tell his stories from the war. His side of living with You-Know-Who and his inner circle. Of coming back out into the Wizarding world and Hogwarts an ex-Death Eater. Of the trials.

But then they focused on happier things. Second chances. Quidditch. Friendship and first kisses.

Draco thought about what the girls had said at lunch and decided to tell Luna about how his nightmares had become fewer and easier to handle since Harry. Harry told her how his had almost stopped altogether since Draco. They talked about how sleeping felt safer next to each other and the effects of comforting arms after rough dreams or during bouts of insomnia.

It was well past midnight when they finished. Draco’s throat was sore but he felt lighter. They’d talked about things with Luna they hadn’t discussed themselves yet. It had been easier somehow.

A lot of what had been said wouldn’t go into print though.

They were tired and ready for bed, when on a sudden whim Draco suggested, ”Let’s go for a walk.”

”Now?” Harry asked dubiously.

Today had been another cold and sunny day, and the promise of icy air and starry skies had Draco’s blood humming with longing. He thought back to his last midnight walk and decided that he really, really wanted Harry to join him on this one.

”Yes, come on. It’ll be worth it.”

Harry’s smile turned sly. Draco playfully swatted at him, ”Not like _that,_ you idiot. Get your mind out of the gutter.” _Honestly._ Didn’t he realise how cold it was outside? ”Come on, put some warm clothes on and let’s go.”

”Er, I think most of my clothes are in your room.”

A few minutes later they were leaving Draco’s room, fully dressed in winter cloaks, wooly hats, and gloves. Draco squinted at Harry, ”Are you wearing one Slytherin glove and one Gryffindor glove?”

”Er,” Potter looked down at his hands, ”mhmm. Why?”

”Why? Because, Potter, gloves come in matching pairs, and I worry it means you’ve lost one of _mine_. That one day soon I’ll find I own 3 left-hand gloves and no right.”

”Maybe I thought it was a nice metaphor?” Draco did not buy it. He simply raised an eyebrow at Harry, who relented. ”Fine, I couldn’t find two matching ones, but A) it doesn’t mean I’ve lost the other, just that I couldn’t find it right now, and B) er.. at least I’ve a right one and a left one.” He smiled sheepishly. For the 411th time Draco wondered how he’d fallen in love with this idiot. He kissed him.

”And”, Harry said against his lips, ”you’re wearing a Gryffindor scarf, _my_ scarf. What if you lost it! Don’t you have your own scarfs, Draco?” Harry pulled back, teasing.

” _My_ scarf was on the floor, suggesting you wore it last. _I_ don’t lose things.” _And it smells like you._ Draco didn’t say the last bit out loud, but that was the reason he wore it, even if the rest was true, too. Harry rolled his eyes and grabbed Draco’s gloved hand, ”Come on.”

Draco filled his lungs with the crisp air. Much needed after spending the whole evening cooped up in Harry’s room. They started walking towards the lake, but Harry pulled him to a sudden stop.

”Draco, look up.” Draco did. The sky was clear and covered in stars, but there were also strokes ofgreen and purple lights dancing across it. Aurora Borealis. Draco had never seen it before.

The two of them stood gaping up at the sky in utter astonishment. Then Harry threw himself downon his back in the snow. And after a second of hesitation Draco lay down next to him. It was freezing, but the lights looked amazing. Something about them made Draco feel tiny, and his problems even tinnier. As Draco, mesmerised, watched the Aurora, he could have sworn he heard music. 

Yesterday had been crazy, as had today. Draco had a feeling the coming days would get even worse. But they would face it together, and with the support of their friends.

Right now it was just the two of them lying outside in the snow, in the quiet winter night. Watching the lights dance across the sky. In a minute it would get too cold to lay still. Harry would start to make a snow angel. He’d watch his breath and pretend to be the Gringotts dragon. They’d go inside, fall into bed and warm each other up. But right now, it was just them and the lights.


	12. December 12th - Roasting Marshmallows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The eight-years are curious about the Drarry.   
> The Drarry is not impressed. 
> 
> There's marshmallows and a fire.

**December 12th- Roasting marshmallows**

Draco and Harry had now officially been out as a couple for approximately 56 hours and 47 minutes. But who’s counting. It had both been crazy and wonderful, and a little bit stressful.

Draco sat in one of the sofas in front of the fire trying to read a book, while Blaise insisted on getting some dirty details about the Boy Who Lived. Draco ignored him. If only he was allowed to throw a silencing hex.

He looked up and saw Potter, his heart skipping a beat, as he entered the room. Their eyes locked on each other. Harry grinned and Draco grinned back. This was allowed now.

”Draco, Oi! Draco! Are you even listening to me?” Draco was not. He was watching as Harry walked towards them, thinking about how incredibly good he looked with his stupid hair and his stupid scar. Then Draco thought about running his fingers trough that—surprisingly soft—mess, and pressing his lips against the white lightning bolt on his forehead. Without taking his eyes off of Harry, Draco said, ”Blaise, move.”

”Rude!” Blaise exclaimed, but did, and Harry sat down next to Draco. Close to him, their shoulders and legs touching.

Pansy plopped down on the sofa next to Blaise, putting her feet in his lap, head resting against the Patil.

”Nice plan, Pansy. You made it worse,” Blaise said disgusted.

”Don’t be bitter, Blaise, it doesn’t become you. You’ll get wrinkles prematurely, and then who will shag you?”

”But did you just see that look? Ugh, it was…”

”I know!” Hermione interrupted, ”But I swear to Circe, if you value your _package,_ Blaise, you’d better suffer in silence, or I will hex you so bad your balls fall off.” Blaise reflexively crossed his legs and stared horrified at Hermione’s threatening face.

”Absolutely revolting, that look was,” Pansy agreed with Blaise, her tone cheerful. She looked over at Draco and Harry with a smile Draco found ominous, ”So, spill.”

”Er, what?”

”Tell us how and when you got together. First kiss. First shag. Who’s on top. Kinks. Dick size. Spare no details.” Draco was scandalised into silence.

”Oi, Dean, bring over the marshmallows and some Fire-whisky, it’s story time.” Pansy continued, calling over their heads. ”we’re about to find out about _The Drarry.”_

”WOAH, wait for us.” Dean, Seamus, and Neville quickly scrambled over and got comfortable in front of the fire. Dean poured glasses of Fire-whisky while Pansy gleefully skewered a marshmallow on a spit. Using a hovering spell, she could comfortably roast it without getting up from the sofa. ”We’re ready, spill.”

”Absolutely not.” Draco enunciated every syllable.

”Oh, come on Draco, don’t be a prude. I’ll share a story about me and Padma. (Well, that was one mystery solved.)

Draco closed his eyes, exhausted and exasperated, ”I _really_ don’t want to know.”

”And I’ll tell you about me and Justin,” Blaise added.

”No need, Blaise, we were all there.” Pansy said, rolling her eyes. ”Come on, Draco, give us something!” Draco shook his head, he was getting uncomfortable. ”Potter?” Pansy prompted.

Harry seemed to sense Draco’s mood, and squeezed his thigh.

”You know what,” Harry said calmly, ”Shut up. No offence, but this is none of your business. Besides, I’d rather hear your theories, and then maybe we can confirm them. And then again, maybe not.” Pansy started talking, but Harry interrupted her straight away, adding, ”And no sex-questions, that’s private.” Draco relaxed a little. _Really_ , he wasn’t a prude, just private.

”And,” Harry added, ”Draco might not be allowed to hex people, but I can. And will.” He smiled sweetly at the room.

”You two are no fun, ” Pansy whined, ”At all.”

”Agreed,” Blaise muttered, hand protectively covering his crotch. As if that’d help against one of Hermione’s curses.

Harry stuck a couple of marshmallows on a skewer and used a hover-spell to toast them. ”You know what, you lot can just wait for the Quibbler to come out like the rest of the world.”

”What? We are your friends!”

”Friends don’t ask friends about dick-size,” Harry said.

Draco did not miss the look that passed between Hermione and Pansy. Apparently neither did Ron, judging by the colour of his ears.

”What world do you live in, Scar-head?”, Pansy asked. ”Because, that is in fact _exactly_ what friends ask friends about.” 

Harry looked to Hermione, who shrugged apologetically and confirmed Pansy’s words, which seemed to throw Harry off a bit.

Draco finally found his voice again, ”Drop it, Parkinson. You and Ganger can discuss Weasly’s wiener all you like,” (YOU MAY NOT, Ron bellowed—but they all ignored him) ”but like Harry said, no intimate or too personal questions. Either ask something real or we can just drop it altogether.”

She rolled her eyes, ”Fiiiine. Is it too private to ask about when this all started?”

Harry summoned his marshmallows and offered one to Draco. ”I’d like to hear your guesses.”

Draco was curious too, but also a little terrified he’d find out just how unsubtle they’d been. _They?_ No, _Potter._ How unsubtle _Potter_ had been. Draco was the ice-prince. Well, apart from losing it over that mistletoe.

Draco had never had roasted marshmallows before, and dubiously took one from the spit. He found out the hard way just how soft and sticky they were as his fingers were instantly covered in _goo_. _Damn all Muggle sweets!_

”I’m guessing it’s been going on since we came back to Hogwarts,” Padma said.”Maybe even since the trials.”

”Ha! Are you insane? They hated each other back then. Nah, I reckon since the beginning of December,” Ron, incredibly enough even more oblivious than Harry. 

Draco relented and put the sticky marshmallow-mess into his mouth. To his annoyance it was delicious. Maybe you could eat it with a fork? Or straight from the spit, but that seemed a little barbaric.

”Oh, Ron, get your head out of your arse, they’ve been shagging since September, for sure! What did you think they were doing at all those extra late night Quidditch practices?”

”Er, re-training Malfoy as a chaser?”, Ron said, as if it were obvious, and Pansy was an idiot.

Draco listened with half an ear while he watched Harry lick his fingers clean. He’d gotten some marshmallow-goo stuck to his upper lip, and Draco wanted to lean in and kiss it off. His stomach instantly filled with a billion butterflies as he realised he could. It would be awkward in front of everyone else, but he could. _This was allowed_.

Harry sensed Draco staring and looked at him. And smiled. Merlin, that stupid smile turned every inch of Draco into a giant, roasted marshmallow.

They were already sitting so close, all Draco had to do was lean in a little closer and tilt his head up. And then Harry’s lips would be on his.

Before he’d gathered enough courage to do so, Harry had leaned in and kissed him. His lips soft and sticky, tasting sweetly of marshmallows. Draco lost himself in the kiss, and for a second he forgot about all the others. Until Pansy started hooting. Draco suspected it was she who’d started that in the Great Hall the other day, too.

”So, who’s right? Tell us,” Blaise said. ”I bet it’s me.” Draco hadn’t even heard his theory.

Hermione smiled secretly, ”I think all of you are wrong. I think it’s been going on since October.I mean, it’s obviously been building for longer, but remember that Quidditch match we had against Gryffindor? Something changed then.”

_How the fuck could she possibly know?_ Draco and Harry looked at each other.

”Well?” both Pansy and Ron urged at the same time.

”Er, I guess you’ll have to buy the Quibbler.” Harry shrugged and smiled at the outcry of protests. Pansy and Dean threw un-roasted marshmallows at them and booed. Draco laughed and let Harry pull him up from the sofa. He quickly snatched the bag of marshmallows from Pansy before they left, ”Cheers!” Pansy gave him the finger.

Later, when they lay in bed dozing off to sleep, Draco thought of that rainy day in October. Of the Quidditch game against Gryffindor, and of what happened after. The kiss, Draco thought, had been surprising and inevitable all at the same time. Maybe it had started then, but maybe it had started a long time before that. Draco didn’t really think it mattered, what mattered was here and now. He ran his fingers through Harry’s hair, and pulled him a little closer, kissing his scar good-night.


	13. December 13th - Ugly Christmas Jumpers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is proud of his new Christmas Jumper.  
> Draco is horrified. 
> 
> The Quibbler is coming ut.

**December 13th - Ugly Christmas Jumpers**

”Did your jumper just make a sound?”, Draco looked at Harry in disbelief.

”Isn’t it magnificent? It’s a reindeer, and I enchanted it to bleat like one.” Harry looked genuinely proud of himself. _Idiot_. Adorable idiot, but idiot all the same.

”And, you’re going to wear it? Around people?”

Harry simply beamed at him.

”Today, of all days?” _Thursday the 13th: The Day of Doom._

The Quibbler would print the interview today, and Harry and Draco would be exposed for the whole Wizarding community to see. Draco was not prepared. Hermione had assured them that sure, at first it would probably get a little worse when the interview came out, but in the long run it’d be worth it. And, Draco admitted, it had been a good way for him to tell his side of the story, to try and prove that he’d changed. That he was no longer a Death Eater. That he wasn’t _evil._

Suddenly the nose of Harry’s reindeer lit up, bright red, like a beacon. _Merlin, help me!_

”That’s not even the best part,” Harry said with a broad grin, watching Draco’s horrorstruck face.

Draco found this unsettling. If Harry put on a matching pair of antlers they’d have to break up.

Harry pushed on the reindeer’s glowing, red nose, and it started to play what seemed to be a Muggle-song about a red-nosed reindeer.

_Why did it have to be a Gryffindork? Why?_

Draco felt a little annoyed at how ridiculous his _boyfriend_ was. (Draco was still getting used to that word. _Boyfriend_.) This was going to be embarrassing. And yet, looking at Harry in his bleating, glowing, singing reindeer-jumper, Draco could barely keep the smile from his lips and his chest felt oddly warm. Maybe he was coming down with something.

”That still wasn’t the best part.”

Now Draco was worried for real. If Potter’d sprouted a tail…

”I made you a matching one,” Potter said grinning. Aghast Draco watched as he summoned it from across the room, and held it out to him with an eye-to-eye grin.

Draco’s chest grew even warmer, and felt a bit tight—maybe he should go to the hospital wing.

There was no way in hell Draco would put that monstrosity on. No. Way.

Then he looked at Potter’s earnest face, and horrified realised that he would have to wear it, because Draco would _not_ be the reason Harry stopped smiling like that today. Grudgingly he took the jumper from Harry and pulled it on over his white shirt. _Is this what love is?_ Draco was surprised at his own thought. He’d come to terms with his being _in_ love with Harry, but did he _love_ him? Was there even a difference? Draco thought there was.

Merlin's left tit, this jumper was horrendous! But Draco would rather lose his last scrap of dignity than hurt Harry, so he’d wear it all day. At least the green in his shirt matched the green in his tie.

Pansy’s cackle when she saw Draco enter the Great Hall in his reindeer jumper confirmed just how stupid he looked. He fought the instinct to turn around and leave, and walked toward the table, head held high. At least he and Harry looked stupid together.

Pansy was even more delighted when she found out that his shirt started singing if she pressed the nose. Draco felt that that would get very old very fast.

Sipping his coffee, he anxiously looked around the Great Hall. It didn’t seem like the Quibbler had arrived quite yet. Draco was glad of it. He’d rather not be there when people started reading.

It had been a tedious day, but not in the way Draco had expected. Sure, there were students all over the school reading the Quibbler. It was circulating under the tables during classes, read in the Great Hall at lunch and dinner. At one time, Draco had heard a Hufflepuff girl read it out loud to a group of her friends while passing them in a corridor. But Harry had pushed the nose on Draco’s shirt, and then a few seconds later on his own, drowning the reading girl out with a terrible un-synced version of Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer.

The jumper was in fact the reason why his day had been so exhausting. Everyone had seemed to find making his shirt sing or light up hilarious. And when it randomly bleated during classes Draco wanted to sink through the floor, where his traitorous classmates were rolling with laugher. His professors, however, were not as impressed. Apart from Professor Flitwick, who’d at least seemed impressed with the charm-work used on it.

Back in their room—Draco thought of it like that now—Harry yanked at Draco’s shirt. ”Finally, let’s get this abomination off.” Draco startled, ”Abomination?”

”I’m sorry, did you think it pretty?”

Draco felt lost. ”What?”

”The jumper Draco, did you actually think it was nice?”

Draco wasn’t sure what to say now that Potter himself had called it an abomination. Did he hate it, too? Harry smiled cheekily, and pushed on the Reindeer’s nose. And for the umpteenth time that day, Draco heard the song about Rudolph and his bloody nose.

”I know you hate it, take it off.” Harry had already thrown his on the floor, and Draco was tempted to do the same. He settled for a compromise and hung it over a chair. This relationship already had one slob in it, it did not need another one or they’d never see the floor again.

”That’s better,” Harry said, and immediately started undoing the buttons on Draco’s shirt. Draco was still perplexed.

”Hold on, if _you_ hated the jumper so much, why did you wear it? And even worse—why did you make _me_ wear it?”

”First of all, I did not make you wear it. I gave it to you, and you put it on, no questions asked.” Draco was ready to protest, but realised Harry was right. ”Secondly,” Harry continued, ”did the jumper take your mind off the Quibbler?”

Astonished Draco realised it had. And what Harry had done for him. Maybe that, too, was love.

Draco felt slightly overwhelmed and he didn’t have any words. He simply looped his arms around Harry and pulled him close, burying his face in the crook of his neck. They stood like that, embracing each other, for a long time before they finally moved over to the bed.


	14. December 14th — Spiked Eggnog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Friday night and Pansy made eggnog.  
> Draco gets a bit tipsy.  
> Tiny bit of blink-and-you'll-miss-it-smut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I'm running out of braincells.

**December 14th — Spiked Eggnog**

Draco wasn’t a big drinker. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the taste of alcohol, he did, but he didn’t like losing control. So he usually skipped the drinks altogether, or stuck to one. But this was delicious. As soon as he’d entered the common room after dinner, Pansy had stuck a glass of eggnog in his hand, topped with whipped cream and cinnamon. And according to her, she’d only added a dash of fire-whiskey. Draco suspected it was a rather large dash, but one glass would be ok. After the week he’d had he thought he deserved a drink.

Draco had welcomed the warm and relaxing feeling the eggnog instantly gave him. He sank down in an armchair opposite Granger who also held a glas of eggnog, and was reading a heavy Arithmancy tome.

Surprised he heard himself say, ”You were right, you know.” _Perhaps Pansy had spiked the eggnog with a lot more fire-whiskey than he’d thought._

Hermione looked up from her book, startled. And then smiled a little when she saw Draco, ”I know. I usually am. But just to be clear, exactly what was it I was right about this time?”

Draco had to laugh a little at her self confidence.

Draco kept his voice low, ”You were right about that Quidditch game, that something happened that night that changed everything.”

Since the Quibbler had come out, the other eight-years had, to Draco’s great surprise, left him and Harry alone. Even though their interview probably had roused more questions than it’d answered. It had been an exposing article, yes, but _details_ about their relationship had been left out. It hadn’t even been detailed enough to settle which of the eight-years who’d been right about when Draco and Harry had gone from friends to more, Luna had only written: _’Sometime along the way their friendship blossomed into romance’._ Draco knew that irked them, but there was still something in that article who kept them from asking. Or, perhaps it was Hermione’s threat to hex Blaise’s balls right off that kept every one at bay—either way, Draco was happy for the respite.

”I knew it,” Hermione said, keeping her voice down so the others wouldn’t hear. Granger wasn’t just book-smart, she was also excellent at reading people and social situations. Something that could not be said about Weasley. Or Harry, Draco supposed. Still, Ron was worse.

Draco sipped the frothy drink and relaxed further into his seat looking over to where Harry and Ron stood, drinks in their hands, undoubtedly talking about Quidditch. Both of them with whipped cream on the tip of their noses. Draco looked back to Hermione who’d also watched their significant others, and shook his head in disbelief. ”Would you look at those idiots?”

Hermione also shook her head, laughing. ”Hopeless. I’ll buy them both a lifetime supply of wet-wipes for Christmas.”

With a jolt Draco realised he’d have to get Potter a Christmas gift. It’s what boyfriends do. Draco felt a surge of panic at the thought, and took a large gulp of his drink. _Delicious!_

”You wouldn’t have any ideas what I could give the Golden boy for Christmas, would you?” he hoped he didn’t sound a panicky as he felt.

”Oh, I’m not sure, I’ll think about it. But really, Draco, I think he’d be happy with anything you gave him. Now, shhh they’re coming over.”

Ron, Harry, and Dean came over to sit with them, Harry perching on the armrest of Draco’s chair.

”You two idiots couldn’t tell each other you had cream on your noses?” Draco said drily. Both instantly wiped at their faces.

”Er,” Harry said, scratching the back of his head, ”I thought I’d wait and see how long it’d take him before he noticed himself.”

”Yeah, same” Ron said, shrugging and smiling sheepishly. Draco sent a helpless look to Hermione, who mouthed ’wet-wipes’. Draco snorted. He went for another sip of his drink only to realise his glass was empty. Maybe one more wouldn’t hurt.

”Hey, Pansy” Draco called over to where she was sitting with the Patils and Blaise, ”could I have another drink?”

”Sure thing, Darling.” She summoned Draco’s empty glass and refilled it with eggnog, spraying some whipped cream on top, and finished it all off with a dusting of cinnamon, before sending it back to Draco. Absentmindedly Draco wondered how Muggles got by without magic, poor sods.

This glass was just as delicious as the last.

The time passed with the five of them chatting about this and that, emptying and refilling their glasses.

Draco felt content. There was no better word for it. He was relaxed and happy, his arm had snaked around Harry’s waist and pulled him a little closer. Eventually his fingers had found their way in under Harrys shirt, tracing circles over the soft skin on his side and his back.

Draco wondered if it’d be ok to pull Potter down into his lap. Probably not. He did it anyway.

Harry’s lips were instantly on his. Mouth warm and tasting of cinnamon and fire-whiskey. Draco’s hands tangled in his hair and pulled him closer still. He didn’t care about the others in the room. They didn’t even exist. It was just the two of them. 

”Oi! OOOIII!! You two! Get a room!” Blaise yelled. Popping Draco’s bubble. _Blaise of all people._ But, Draco and Harry had a room, and they both desperately wanted to be in it. They stood up, and all of a sudden awkward, Harry said. ”Er, we’re going to..er…”

”They don’t need to know what we’re going to do,” Draco hissed, and pulled on Harry’s arm.

”We _all_ know what you’re going to do,” Blaise said.

”I was going to say ’sleep’ ”, Harry muttered.

Feeling cheeky from the eggnog, and a little bit to get back at Blaise for interrupting them, Draco took the canister with whipped cream from Blaise’s hand as he passed him on his way out, saying, “Good, then you understand that I need this more than you do,” and winked. Draco didn’t recognise himself. Nor did Blaise, judging by the look on his face. Potter looked amused, but his eyes were burning, hungrily flicking between Draco’s, and the whipped cream. Harry licked his lips and all of a sudden Draco was in an even greater hurry to get back to their room.

”Don’t forget the muffliato” Blaise called after them as they left.

Draco had barely closed the door behind him before Potter pushed him against it and kissed him. Their kisses were hot and frantic, hands ripping at clothes, searching for skin.

In one swift movement Harry had vanished what was left of their clothes and sunken to his knees.

Draco let his head fall back against the door at the familiar feeling of Harry’s lips closing around him, tongue trailing over silky skin. His thumbs digging in to Draco’s hips, holding him in place. Yet again Draco tangled his fingers in Harry’s hair, grounding himself as Harry swallowed him whole.

The canister of whipped cream lay under a pile of clothes, long forgotten.


	15. December 15th - Gingerbread houses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gingerbread house bakeoff.  
> No magic allowed.

**December 15th - Gingerbread houses**

Draco was sweating. His hair was in disarray and he could feel frosting drying on his forehead.

This was all Justin-bloody-Finch-Fletchley’s fault. And Blaise’s. The old Blaise would never have come up with this, but the new Blaise, the Blaise who let his dick do the thinking, had suggested they’d have their own Finch-Fletchley-Bakeoff. No magic allowed.

As a result, Draco was now teamed up with Harry, baking his very first gingerbread house. And without using magic. It was a nightmare.

Blaise had managed to get most of the eight-years to join in, and working in pairs they were all competing, trying to make the best house. Blaise had promised them that there would be a prize.

Baking, Draco quickly discovered, was incredibly messy. And the kitchen fires were cooking him, as well as the dough.

Blaise had arranged everything with the kitchens, and when they got there they were met by six workstations all set up with great lumps of gingerbread dough, cutters, rolling pins, house templates, bowls with different coloured frostings, dishes filled with Bertie Bott’s Every Flavoured Beans, mini-marshmallows, and crushed candy canes. Anything you needed to bake and build a gingerbread house.

Everyone seemed to know what they were doing and got started straight away. Neither Draco nor Harry had made a gingerbread house before, and settled for a classic-looking template and started to roll out the dough and cutting out the pieces.

This was easy. _They would win._

Hours later Draco was exhausted and more than a little fed up with this no-magic-rule. The pieces didn’t fit together and they definitely didn’t stick together, no matter how much frosting you used. Decorating proved to be impossible as well. They had made several futile attempts to arrange Bertie Bott’s Beans in a nice pattern on the house, and the marshmallows kept gathering in great hoards on the roof. Draco sighed, frustrated.

He looked over to Dean and Seamus who seemed to have scrapped the house altogether. They were now building what Dean called a ”football stadium” instead. Draco assumed it was some sort of non-magical gingerbread Quidditch pitch.

And Pansy and Padma were _successfully_ making a castle. Unbelievable. Draco glared at his and Potter’s crooked house. _They would not win._

Over to his left, Hermione seemed to be doing all the work while Ron stood idly by, munching on some dough, making unhelpful remarks. Draco was not surprised. What did surprise him, though, was how neat Neville’s house was coming out. He and Hannah had also settled on making a traditional gingerbreadhouse, but their decorating skills were impeccable.

Justin, the self-proclaimed gingerbread house pro, and apparent winner of many a Muggle-bakeoff, had to do all the work himself, while Blaise stood next to him, being inappropriate and making him,and everyone within hearing distance, uncomfortable.

Draco turned his attention back to his own project. Looking tragically at the roof that threatened to cave in at any moment.

Harry seemed to think that gingerbread houses couldn’t have too much frosting, Draco disagreed—it looked like their house had suffered through a severe blizzard.

Harry’s fingers, too, were covered in frosting, and Draco had to fight the urge to put them in his mouth and lick them clean.

On second thought, this would be an excellent opportunity to get back at Potter for that day in the library. This wouldn't be as bad, Potter wasn’t as uptight about these things as Draco was and they were now also official. But still, Draco would not — _could not_ —just let it pass. He was a Malfoy! He had to at least try and do something, and today Potter was wearing those ridiculous Muggle-trousers (joggers? Is that a word?) that left very little to the imagination—he would not get off easily. And Draco was getting bored with the baking, he needed to entertain himself a bit, or he’d channel Justin’s mum and break all the houses.

Having made up his mind Draco silently sent a prayer to Circe, asking that he wouldn’t accidentally turn himself on in the process. _He was not wearing his robes._

Draco stepped in close to Harry, grabbing his wrist and turning him so his back was against the table. “Draco, what...”

He leaned in to brush their lips together, discretely wedging his leg between Harry’s.

“It’s time to pay for the candy cane in the library, Potter” he whispered, lips against Harry’s ear.

Harry shuddered, but he also had the audacity to look amused. Draco would show him.

He lifted Harry’s fingers to his lips and licked the frosting off one. It tasted like lemon curd.

Harry still looked amused. Annoyed, Draco sucked his whole finger into his mouth. _Shit_ , Draco could feel something stirring in his stomach, he was walking on thin ice. (Why wasn’t he wearing his robes?)

He heard a catch in Potter’s breath, and his gaze was intense, challenging. Draco sucked a little harder while trying to think of buckets of ice and cold showers, he would win _this_ if not the gingerbread house competition, dammit.

Harry, the stupid git, leant in and kissed Draco’s neck, pressing himself firmly against Draco’s thigh. _Shit shit shit shit shit._

Then Draco felt something hard bounce off the back of his head. Ron had thrown a small ball of dough at him.

Harry laughed a little, then he whispered in Draco’s ear, lips brushing against it sending shivers down Draco’s spine, “We’ll finish this later, when I have you to myself, the things I will do…the sounds you will make, Draco…” Draco had lost.

A little louder Potter said, “It’s no longer a secret you turn me on, Draco. And I refuse to be embarrassed about it.”

Draco was flustered—his plan had backfired— but he could also see the rather prominent bulge in Harry’s joggers, so in _some_ ways, at least, he’d been successful. Draco was hit by another lump of dough.

“Is this the kind of behaviour we have to endure from the two of you now that you’ve become official?” Blaise asked sourly. (Someone should teach him about double standards.)

“Yes,” Harry said, grinning. Then went straight back to decorating their house. Draco needed a few minutes to collect himself first, Harry’s words were on repeat in his brain, _’the things I will do…the sounds you will make, Draco…”._

Luna and Ginny had been called in to judge the bakeoff, as everyone would clearly be voting for their own creations, no matter how ugly. Luna was the nicer judge, her quirky ways let her see something beautiful in everything. Whereas the She-Weasel was a bit harsher. She took one look at the Potter-Malfoy house, and gave them a pitying look. Draco flushed slightly and glared back at her.

After some deliberation Luna and Ginny settled on Neville and Hannah’s house as the winner, closely followed by Dean and Seamus. Neville positively beamed as Luna handed him the prize: a bottle of Fire-Whiskey with a red bow tied around its neck.

After that everyone started to pick up their houses in order to leave the kitchens.

”Hold on, people,” Ginny said, ”we still have another prize to hand out. Blaise told us to announce a winner, yes. But he also told us to get a consolation prize for the ugliest house.” She cleared her voice theatrically, and said, using her best announcer’s voice, ”And the team, who placed last in today’s competition, is without a doubt…Harry and Draco.” Everyone cheered and clapped. Draco scowled at them.

Ginny came over and pushed a small bottle in to Draco’s hand. ”Congratulations!”

”A tiny bottle of fire-whiskey for the losers, very amusing,” he said coldly. Malfoys were sore losers.

”Look again,” the She-Weasel said. Winking. _Why did she keep doing that?_

Draco looked down at the bottle in his hand and flushed from the soles of his feet to the roots of his hair. The label read: _Aphrodite’s_ _Gingerbread-flavoured Lube._

”Don’t use it all at once.” Ginny grinned at him.

”What is it?” Draco was too embarrassed to speak and simply handed Harry the bottle. He took one look at it and let out a roar of laugher.

Everyone stared at him, ”What’s so funny? What did she give you?”

”Edible lube. Gingerbread flavoured.” Harry ground out between bouts of laughter.

Everyone joined Harry in his laughter, but Ginny, Dean, Seamus, and Pansy’s cackle sounded particularly evil to Draco’s ears.

”It’s waterproof, too,” Luna added seriously.

For the second time that week, Draco wanted to sink through the floor.

Still chuckling, the eight-years started heading back to their dorms. Harry had pocketed the small bottle and Draco carried the gingerbread house. Back in their room he put it on top of the dresser, then took a step back and looked at it. It was official: Draco and Harry had made the ugliest gingerbread house in history. The roof was sagging, frosting dripping over the sides. Marshmallows and Bertie Bott’s beans chaotically sprinkled across it. The left gable was two centimetres shorter than the right—Draco was convinced it was because Harry had eaten the dough—leaving the house looking slanted and crooked.

Harry stepped forward and lifted the house, putting a jar with enchanted fairy lights inside it, adding a soft glow in the tiny, bowed, windows.

It was ugly as hell, but Draco couldn’t help but feel a little proud when he looked at it. And again his chest was filled with that familiar warmth that had become more and more common recently—they’d made this together.

And no matter how embarrassing at the time, they had won a prize.

Harry took his hand, ”Come on, it’s about time we get that frosting out of your hair.” Draco couldn’t agree more.


	16. December 16th - Ice-skating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breaking News: Ice is slippery.

**December 16th - Ice-skating**

Draco glared at the ever growing pile of letters on his desk. Since the Quibbler had come out both he and Harry had received a ton of them. Draco still hadn’t opened a single one. He’d seen one he supposed was from his mother, but he hadn’t dared open that yet. The rest was probably hate-mail from either Potter fans or Death Eaters. Or both. He should just burn them.

He gloomily wondered if the Quibbler had made it to Azkaban.

Putting the letters out of his mind for the day, he wrapped Harry’s scarf around his neck and pulled on a pair of gloves—they were heading down to the lake to ice-skate. It was another sunny but cold Sunday, and Hermione had asked McGonagall to teach her a transfiguration spell that would change their regular boots into ice skates.

Draco had never stood on a pair of skates before, but he’s seen other people do it and it looked easy—how hard could it be?

Fifteen minutes later Draco wondered if he should have tied a pillow to his arse. He was bound to fall on it a lot—bruising both his butt and his ego. Ice was slippery. This, of course, was news to no one, but this ice was extra slippery. Draco was sure of it.

Ginny, Dean, and Hermione were skating around as if they’d been born with skates. Draco glared at them, wondering what spell they were using to not fall. They were obviously cheating.

Blaise on the other hand seemed to find the ice just as slippery and unwelcoming as Draco did. Justin, who apparently had played some kind of Muggle-Quidditch on ice when he was little, tried to talk him into at least try it.

”No way,” Blaise shook his head, gesturing at Neville who’d fallen over 5 times in as many minutes, ”if I wanted to have a sore arse tomorrow there are other, more enjoyable things we could do.” He winked at Justin. Justin, to his credit, seemed to have become immune—or at least grown accustomed— to Blaise’s antics, and simply said, ”Don’t worry. I won’t let you fall.”

Draco looked over at Harry, and immediately decided he would be absolutely useless as support on the ice.

Further down the lake, Ron, who’d bragged about his iceskating skills kept falling on his face, which got redder and redder each time. His balance only seemed to get worse, too. At first Ron had been able to at least skate a little, now it seemed he wasn’t even able to stand up before he fell over again.

Draco scanned the ice and saw Ginny and Pansy, their heads ominously close together, shaking with laughter. Draco started to suspect this was their doing. _Evil witches._

By some miracle, Harry managed to close the distance between them without falling over, and he took Draco’s hand. ”C’mon.” Stiff-legged Draco let Harry pull him along, but as soon as he tried to move his feet even a little, he felt his balance falter. Still, being pulled along the ice by an equally stiff-legged Harry felt kind of nice. Draco smiled to himself, squeezing Harry’s hand just a little.

With Christmas drawing ever nearer, Draco had ransacked his brain for anything Potter had said during the past few months that he could use, anything at all that would give him a clue of what he could get him for Christmas. He knew Harry hadn’t had many good Christmases, that he’d never gotten any presents before Hogwarts and he felt that it was important that he got it _right_ this year _—_ their first Christmas together _._

Then, last night, he’d had an idea. But he’d need Hagrid’s help. Draco didn’t exactly have a good relationship with Hagrid, considering his own past behaviour, but he’d been visiting his hut with Harry a few times during the autumn, and he was pretty sure Hagrid wouldn’t let one of his creatures eat him if he popped down for a visit, if only for Harry’s sake. He was also sure that Hagrid would help him since this was for Harry, and not for Draco.

Draco gripped Harry’s hand a little tighter, waiting for the inevitable fall. And then it happened. Draco hit some kind of bump in the ice and it was all over. His life flashed before his eyes, his free arm desperately flailing searching for support, before he finally hit the ice, pulling Harry with him in his fall. Bruised ego, bruised arse, bruised _everything_ —just as he had anticipated.

Draco groaned.

”Draco, are you ok?” Harry sounded both worried and amused. _Git._

”No”, Draco said sulkily.

Potter’s face was hovering inches from his now, all traces of concern gone.

”Was anything hurt apart from your pride?”

Draco scowled at him, but he found it hard to maintain, and then Potter bent down to kiss him. Which made it even harder.

Harry stood up and reached a hand out to Draco, ”C’mon”. But he pulled a little too hard, losing his balance pulling Draco down on top of him.

”Ouch.” Potter huffed, and then laughed. This time Draco couldn’t help but join in. ”Idiot.” He stated to get up again, but stopped, all of a sudden suspicious. This must’ve been the doing of the She-Weasel, too. But when Draco looked around for her she seemed to be racing Dean. Huh, maybe it was just the ice.

Harry and Draco eventually made it up again, and continued their unsteady skate around the lake.

Later that afternoon, with sore feet and bruised backsides, Harry and Draco sank down in the armchairs in front of the fire in their room. Draco glanced over at the pile of letters. Harry watched him do it. ”You should read the letter from your Mom. I reckon we can burn the rest.”

Harry got up and got his pile, throwing them all into the fire.

”What are you doing?” Draco exclaimed. ”Aren’t you going to read at least a few of them? Aren’t you curious?”

Harry shrugged, ”Honestly, no, not really. I mean, it’s not as if they matter.”

”How so?”

”Either they’ll be rude which will piss me off, or they’ll be nice, supporting our relationship—either way they don’t matter. I don’t need some random wizards or witches to approve of my private life.”

Draco contemplated this for a few seconds, it made perfect sense. Potter was giving all those nosy bastards the finger. Draco wanted to do it too. _He_ knew that he’d changed, he didn’t need the world to tell them if they thought that he had or hadn’t. Draco got up and collected his letters, only saving the one from his mother, and threw them into the fire. He felt instantly lighter, but the letter from his mother was still gnawing on his insides.

”You’re right, they don’t matter. But she does.” With shaking fingers he opened the letter.

_Dear Draco,_

_I cannot even begin to describe how happy it makes me that you have found love._

_I was worried all the darkness we have put you through had left impressions too_

_deep to heal in both your heart and your mind. I am truly sorry I could not do more_

_to protect you and I understand if you hate me, but know that I love you, deeply and always._

_Yours,_

_Mother_

Draco let out a sob, unsure wether it was from relief or grief. In a heartbeat Harry’s arms were around him, and it was all it took to push him over the edge. Draco buried his face in the crook of Harry’s neck, letting silent tears soak Harry’s shirt.


	17. December 17th - Christmas Shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hogsmeade Christmas Market.  
> Snow, hot cider, and boys in love.

**December 17th - Christmas Shopping**

Christmas was only a week away, and neither Draco nor Harry had done any of their shopping yet. Well, Draco supposed he didn’t really have anyone to shop for, but he’d always enjoyed going to the Christmas markets, and there was one set up in Hogsmeade. So when their lessons were finished for the day, he and Harry made their way into town. Another perk of being an eight-year.

Hogsmeade looked like a post card. Everything was covered in a thick blanket of snow, lights shining through every window, lamps fashioned like snowflakes strung up along the streets. The market on the main street had stalls selling everything from candy apples and warm cider to magical necklaces and wooly wand covers.

Draco thought he’d like to buy something for his mother, but wasn’t sure what that would even be. He’d read her letter a hundred times since last night but still hadn’t responded. He didn’t know how to. But he’d ignored the letter for days before reading it and he didn’t want her to keep thinking that he hated her and that he couldn’t even be bothered to reply.

While Lucius had been sent to Azkaban, Narcissa had been sentenced to house arrest. Whether she meant to do it or not, har actions had saved Harry’s life and he’d spoken in her favour at the trials. Draco hated thinking about her all alone in that big, horrible house. He’d grown up in the Malfoy Manor, he used to love it. But now after the war and everything that took place at the Manor, he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to return.

Draco bought two mugs of warm cider for him and Harry, and a candy apple for himself. Potter didn’t seem to like them. Draco was surprised, considering Potter seemed to have a penchant for extra sticky sweets.

They walked around the market for a while, just enjoying the atmosphere, sipping their cider and looking at stuff they’d never buy.

After sometime, Draco found a pair of super-grip Quidditch gloves, and bought a pair for Ron. Harry looked at him, questioningly. ”Don’t you already have a pair of those?”

”They’re not for me, I’m getting them for Ron.” Harry raised an eyebrow at that, and Draco continued defiantly,”It’s a gift for the whole team, Potter. It’s so the stupid git can stop dropping the Quaffle.”

Harry put an arm around him and kissed his temple, ”Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone Draco Malfoy is walking around being nice to people.”

Before Draco had time to retort, Harry had walked over to the next stand where they were selling licorice wands and chocolate galleons. ”I wonder what Dudley would do if I sent him some of this, would his fear of anything magical trump his love for anything edible?”

Harry might have started to forgive Dudley lately, but Draco wasn’t that charitable. (Yes, hefully understood the irony.)

”You should curse some Muggle sweets and send it to him instead. He’d eat that.”

Harry barked a laugh, took Draco’s hand and moved on to the next stall.

They spent hours walking up and down the streets and into the all the shops. When they were done they were exhausted, and decided to go for a Butter Beer before heading back to Hogwarts. Draco had found gifts for Hermione and Luna as well. He hadn’t meant to, but then he’d seen a pair of earrings that reminded him of Luna and a book that made him think of Hermione, and bought them.

The Three Broomsticks was packed and Draco went up to the bar to order some butter beerswhile Harry looked for a table.

Madame Rosmerta came over to take his order. When she saw who it was, her eyes narrowed, and all of a sudden Draco’s chest filled with ice. He might have expected all the letters to be hateful—some even cursed, but he’d also gotten so used to the Hogwarts students accepting himnow that he’d forgotten about the outside world. He shouldn’t have come.

“Draco Malfoy,” she said, eyes still narrowed. Draco’s swallowed, bracing himself, but didn’t answer. She continued, “I read the Quibbler, you know. Imagine my surprise at their last issue. Harry Potter in a relationship with a Death Eater.”

Draco wished Harry had come with him to the bar, he was the courageous one of the two. Draco’s palms were sweating.

“And then I read your stories, and how you help each other to get back on your feet. Heartbreaking, it was. All of it.” She paused for a moment, giving Draco a searching look. He still didn’t dare speak. ”If Harry Potter of all people believes that you’ve changed... if he’s chosen to be with you, I guess I’ll have to trust that he’s made the right decision.” She smiled a little, and handed Draco two bottles, “On the house.” She hesitated a little before adding, ”Oh, but if he’s wrong, and you haven’t changed, if you hurt him in any way, you’ll have the entire Wizarding world hunting you down with torches and pitchforks.” As if Draco wasn’t painfully aware of that already. She smiled and said ”Merry Christmas”, and turned away before Draco had any chance at all to speak. Dazed, he turned and looked for Harry, and walked over to where he was sitting.

Harry had gotten a table by the window and Draco slid into the seat next to him, handing him a bottle.

Harry looked at him curiously, ”What was that all about?”

Draco shrugged. ”I’m not quite sure. I _think_ she was trying to show her support. She said that if you thought I’d changed that was good enough for her, and the world. But I also think she threatened me.”

”Rosmerta threatened you?” Harry looked both bewildered and concerned.

”Oh, you know, the old ’treat him right or we will all hunt you down and burn you at the stakes’-speech.”

Harry chuckled a little, ”Well, that’s sweet of her. I suppose.” Draco glared at him, but secretly agreed.

”Oh, and she also treated us to the Butter Beers.”

” _That_ was very sweet of her.” Harry grinned and held his bottle up to Rosmerta across the room, in a silent gesture of thanks.

”Besides,” Draco added, ”I thought you said that _they_ didn’t matter.”

”They don’t.” Harry answered. But you can’t deny it feels good to get some approval and support, whether it actually matters or not?”

No, Draco could not deny that.

He took a sip of the Butter Beer. ”When we get back I have a letter to write.”

_Dear Mother,_

_Thank you, your letter meant a lot. I have so much I want to tell you, but I still don’t have the words to do so._

_I just wanted you to know that I’ve read the letter and that I don’t hate you, how could I?_

_I miss you, but I’m not ready to come home yet, not even for a visit._

_Love,_

_Draco_

Draco carefully folded the letter and put it in the envelope. He watched as the owl carried it away into the night.


	18. December 18th - Wrapping presents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The presents need to be wrapped and there is no spell for it.   
> Draco has very little patience with the Muggle way of doing things, what else is new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sap-fest™

**December 18th - Wrapping presents**

Harry and Draco had retreated to their room in order to wrap the gifts they had bought yesterday. Draco quickly discovered that he had very little patience with tape that stuck together and wrapping-paper that refused to stay folded. Not to mention trying to tie a bow.

”Why isn’t there a spell for this?”, Draco said testily, the once-tight ribbon practically hanging off his gift. Again. 

Harry rolled his eyes, tightened the ribbon and put his finger on the knot, holding the ribbon in place, ”Go on, tie it.”

Harry kept his finger on the knot while Draco made the bow. All of a sudden it worked, the ribbon stayed in place and Draco had managed to make a rather nice bow.

”You know what,” Harry continued, ”sometimes I feel sorry for wizards who didn’t grow up with Muggles—you areall completely helpless without magic.”

Draco scowled at him, sometimes Muggles were nifty little bastards but Harry did not need to know he thought so.

”We had house-elves for this kind of thing. I didn’t have to learn,”he said instead, still a bit huffy.

”Er, well you don’t have a house-elf now, so you have to learn how to wrap a gift.”

A thought struck Draco then, ”I don’t, but you do! Why isn’t Kreacher here, wrapping this for us?”

Harry shook his head in disbelief, ”A few weeks of Muggle life would do you good, you know.” Draco sent him another glare. ”Sure, let’s spend the next few weeks with your Uncle and Aunt, they sound like lovely people,” he drawled. Draco regretted this instantly, maybe it was too harsh, even as a joke. But Harry just smiled a little crookedly, ”Wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”

”…and that used to be me…”

Harry barked a laugh at that, ”With Voldemort and Umbridge around, Malfoy, you didn’t even make it to the top ten.” Draco flinched at that name. _Voldemort._ Harry grew quiet at his reaction, but then pushed on. ”Actually, maybe I would have liked to send them to stay with the Dursleys, for a few days at least.” Now it was Draco’s turn to laugh. _Idiot._

”You, on the other hand, you should send a Thank You-card to the Dursleys.”

”What? For what?” Draco could not believe what he was hearing.

”For my impeccable gift-wrapping skills. And for my cooking probably saving you from starvation in the future when you can no longer rely on Hogwarts food to keep you alive.” _Future._ Draco felt all tingly inside.

”You had house-elves for all that, and luckily for you, so did the Dursleys.”

Draco didn’t quite understand. ”What, they didn’t have a house-elf. They are Muggles.”

”Sure they did, they had me.”

Draco’s tingles disappeared in an instant. Merlin’s saggy arse, he hated those people.

Harry smiled, albeit bitterly, and looked at Draco’s horrified face, ”Too dark?”

Draco shook his head, ”Yes. No. I…I just hate thinking about how they treated you, and I don’t understand how you can joke about it.”

”Defence mechanism?” Harry shrugged,”It’s either that or cry about it, and that won’t do me any good. And anyway, it’s over now. I’ll never have to even see them again.” Harry paused, a concerned look fixed upon Draco. ” Draco, it’s OK.”

Draco felt ridiculous, he shouldn’t be more upset about this than Harry was. He wanted to put it out of his mind for now, and go back to joking and bantering. Wrapping presents and kissing.

”OK,” He tried to smile, ”Will you help me wrap the rest of my gifts?”

”Of course.”

They finished wrapping the rest of their gifts together, Harry holding the wrapping-paper in place while Draco taped it, and then a finger on the ribbon while Draco tied a bow. 

After putting the wrapped presents away, Draco turned back to Harry only to see him pick up another piece of ribbon. Puzzled Draco watched as Harry tied a bow around himself.

”What the fuck are you doing?”

”I’m a gift,” Harry said, grinning. Always that stupid grin. It did weird things to Draco’s insides. 

”That’d better not be what you’re giving me for Christmas.” Though really, Draco thought to himself, that was exactly what he wanted. ”If it is, I’d like to exchange you for a gift card at the Quidditch shop. Get myself a new racing broom.”

Harry laughed heartily at that, ”No, you would not.” _No, Draco really wouldn’t._

”I most definitely would!”

”You would not”, Harry laughed and pointed an accusatory finger at Draco, ”You love me.”

”Yes, but still, have you seen the new Firebolt Gold?”

Harry had stopped laughing, an odd expression on his face. And then Draco realised what he’d just said. _Well, shit._ He stared at Harry who stared back, frozen.

Harry looked a little dazed, ”You love me?”

The cat was out of the bag, there was no going back.

”Of course I do, you idiot, Why else would I put up with you?” When ever Draco felt insecure his go-to reaction was defensive. He was trying to look annoyed while his heart was trying to beat its way out of his chest.

Harry stepped closer. Draco couldn’t stand to look at him. What if he didn’t feel the same way?

Harry cupped Draco’s face with both of his hands, gently guiding it up to until Draco looked at him.

Harry’s voice was a little hoarse, ”Draco, I love you.”

”You…you do?” Draco wasn’t sure whether his heart had stopped beating or if it beat so hard he couldn’t even feel it anymore. His entire body felt numb.

”Of course I do, you idiot. Why else would I put up with you?” That stupid, infuriating, grin spreading across his face.

Draco laughed—from relief, from nerves, from joy—and leaned in to kiss Harry, but stopped himself just before their lips met.

It was hard, but he needed to get this right. Draco had never said the words before—written them, sure, but never actually said them to anyone.

Quietly, he whispered ”I love you”, it was too hard to say it out loud.

Finally they kissed, eagerly. It was awkward, teeth clashing together, squashed noses and foreheads bumping. But it was brilliant, and soon they found their way back to their normal rhythm. All soft lips and warm tongues.

”I love you.” It was a little easier the second time.

The third time it was almost fully out loud.

The tenth time it was in-between gasps and moans.

The thirteenth time it was a cry.

The fourteenth time it was a whisper again.


	19. December 19th - Reading by the fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco is reading a book, Harry wants to borrow it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it'd be fun with Harry's POV, seeing Draco from the outside.  
> I was wrong, writing Harry was...weird, but it's too late to re-write.  
> So, sorry.
> 
> And thanks for all the love, and Kudos and comments. <3

**December 19th - Reading by the fire**

Something had changed between them yesterday, but Harry couldn’t put his finger on it. It just felt different, safer somehow. Before Draco told him he loved him, Harry had assumed they’d felt the same way about each other—on a good day. On a bad day…well.

Harry looked over at the prickly git reading in the armchair next to him, and felt a surge of affection roll through his chest. _Draco loved him. And he loved Draco._

Harry had been starved of love for as long as he could remember. He’d lived for ten years in a completely loveless home. No comforting hugs when he’d fallen and hurt his knees, no goodnight stories or kisses, no safe bed to climb into when he’d woken from nightmare and there were monsters under his own bed. Not even a treat on his birthday.

Harry took a sip of tea, but didn’t take his eyes off of Draco. It was weird, everyone seemed to think that Harry had saved him, but no one understood that Draco had saved Harry, too.

He looked at the slender, elegant lines that made up Draco Malfoy. The grey eyes, always soft when turned on Harry. The pale skin that flushed so easily. The small furrow between his eyebrows when he was focused or annoyed.

There were so many sides Draco never showed to anyone but Harry.He always tried his hardestto maintain a proper and demure exterior around others. But it was when his guard was down Harry loved him the most.

In the mornings when he was still sleeping, hair a mess and snoring faintly. Sweaty and muddy after a Quidditch-practice. The way he made love, with complete abandon, that soft O his lips formed when he was getting close. The gentleness of his mouth and the roughness of his teeth.

Harry felt his thoughts running away with him, and something different started to stir inside him.

”What?” Draco didn’t even look up from his book, he must have sensed Harry staring.

Harry was caught a little off guard. ”Er. Nothing.”

Draco raised an eyebrow, and smiled a little. Eyes still fixed on the book.

”What are you reading?”

To Harry’s astonishment Dracos cheeks flushed. What _was_ he reading?

”Nothing interesting.” Draco closed the book with a snap. Harry’s suspicion grew.

He lunged for the book, but Draco was quicker.

They grappled for a bit before Harry simply said, _Accio_ _book_ , and it flew out of Draco’s grip.

Harry triumphantly held the book in his hands, and frowned at the title: _Magical Herbs and Spices. "_ Why were you trying to hide a Herbology book from me?” Harry asked, confused.

”I wasn’t.” Draco said, unconvincingly. ”You’re the one who leapt for it, I just moved by reflex. Now, give it back. Or would you like to study up un the effects of Wolfsbane and Gurdyroot?” his tone was mocking.

Something was fishy. Harry started to hand the book back, but changed his mind—Gurdyroot wasn’t an herb or a spice, was it? He flipped the cover open. Reading the title page: _Wizard anatomy—truly magical spots and where to find them_

What the…Harry looked up at Draco, who was blushing furiously.

”Draco, what the…” Then he started flipping through the pages.

Pages upon pages with detailed drawings, descriptions and tips, not only of _where_ to find these magical spots, but at least a hundred different _how_ to find them, as well.

Now Harry could feel himself blushing, too. Which was ridiculous. They were a couple. They’d done stuff. A lot of it. _Almost_ everything _._

But they were both rather new at this, and slowly but surely finding their likes and dislikes together by trial and error. Experimenting.

But now Harry started to suspect Draco had done a bit of research. Maybe that’s why things had been going so well for them. Harry had done a fair bit of research too, but he’d turned to Muggle porn and an old biology book he’d once stolen from Dudley, none of which had been very informative.

”Er,” Harry wasn’t sure what to say, Draco was a bit conservative with these things. Talking about them that is, not doing them.”Er, can I read it when you’re done with it?”

”What?”

”Er, well, it seems useful, doesn’t it, and I’d like to learn more. For you.” Was his still blushing? ”Not that I haven’t loved every thing we’ve done. So far.” Yes, definitely still blushing. And a little breathless.

Draco looked at him, unsure, ”You’re not going to make fun of me?”

What? ”For what?” Harry’s face might feel hotter than the sun, but he wasn’t as insecure as Draco. It was things like these that made him want to just pull him in for a long hug, shield him from the world. Which was probably a ridiculous reaction.

Draco seemed to battle with himself for a few moments. Then Harry watched, astonished, as Draco silently went over to the dresser and pulled no less than seven books out of one of the drawers. He put them in a pile on the floor next to Harry’s chair, and sank down next to them. Harry wasn’t sure what was weirder: Draco owning seven books on wizard sex or Draco sitting on the floor. Harry glided of off his chair and joined Draco on the floor.

”They’re on everything from protection spells to anatomy and, well” he swallowed, ” _positions_. I got them—well, you know why I got them—” Draco said awkwardly.

Harry grinned at him, and leaned over to give him a quick kiss. Draco seemed to relax a little, and he smiled.

For hours they sat on the floor in front of the fire reading the books together. Sometimes silently to themselves, sometimes they found a passage or a chapter funny or interesting and read it out loud to each other. They spent a lot of time pointing a different complicated-looking positions and laughing. Other things had their pulses racing, and Harry felt his mouth go dry a the thought of doing all of this with Draco. He wasn’t in a hurry, Harry’d be happy to continue what they’d been doing for ever. But he’d lie if he’d say he wasn’t curious.

Now, all he wanted was to push Draco down on the carpet and kiss him until he could no longer feel his lips. And then he’d use every trick he knew to make Draco’s lips shape that O.


	20. December 20th - Candles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lit candles and hot baths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a tiny bit of smut in this, too, because I'm yet again running low on brain-power. 
> 
> It's not blink-and-you'll-miss-it but more like blink-slowly-and-quite-a-bit-and-you'll-miss it.
> 
> You have been warned.

**December 20th - Candles**

One more day of school before break. And then four more before Christmas. Draco was excited. When he was little, it had been all about the gifts he was hoping to get. This year it was all about the gift he’d got for someone else.

Draco had set it all up with Hagrid, and couldn’t wait to see Harry’s face on Christmas morning. He thought he’d got it right, Merlin he hoped so. Draco was a little nervous. What if he’d misinterpreted everything and Harry wouldn’t like it. At all.

But both Hagrid and Hermione had seemed to like the idea, so... well, he’d find out soon enough.

Draco closed the books he’d been reading from, his hand hurting from hours of writing. He’d finally finished his Potions essay, and was ready to hand it in tomorrow.

By now, the Library was almost empty. He suspected Madam Pince was real to close up in a minute.

He rubbed at his eyes and stretched a little, his neck and back aching. Draco was ready for bed, or a hot bath. Or Harry. He gathered his things and started to make his way back to the common room and his dorm.

Harry was nowhere to be found, not in the library, not in the common room, and not in their bedroom. Draco dumped his school books and parchments on the desk, and as his did so, a note drifted to the floor. Draco bent down to pick it up.

_Meet me in the eight years’ baths._

_Password: Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer._

_\- H_

Butterflies suddenly fluttered in Draco’s stomach. Thoughts of gingerbread-flavoured lube and reading in front of the fire, battled with thoughts of what an incredibly ridiculous password that was. And why was there even a password? His thoughts went straight back to his winnings from the bakeoff. Before his brain completely ran away with him, Draco turned on his heel and quickly made his way to the baths, heart racing. What was Potter up to?

He tried the doorknob, but it wouldn’t open. Draco got his wand out and whispered _Alohomora._ There was a popping sound, and the doorknob sprouted a mouth. ”Password” it demanded in a tinny voice.

”Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer.” The locked clicked and Draco started to make his way inside.

He halted on the threshold.

There were, Draco thought, close to a hundred candles lit all around the room, some even floating in the larger of the pools, where Harry sat on the immersed bench, with a large grin on his face. ”Hey.”

Draco swallowed, still standing awkwardly on the threshold, ”Hey.”

”Care to join me?” _Hell yes._

Draco started undressing, but felt a bit weird doing so while Harry was watching him. It was different when they were undressing each other, in the heat of the moment. He tried to fake nonchalance, ”So, why the password?” Draco knew damn well why.

Harry smiled slyly, ”Didn't want anyone to disturb us.”

Draco’s fingers were struggling with the buttons on his shirt. His mouth felt dry. What was that sitting on the edge of the pool? Draco squinted at it. His pulse raced as he recognised the bottle.

”How..uh…how come?” He said distractedly, eyes still fixed on that bottle.Harry followed his stare, and stiffened a little. ”Er, I thought we’d have some time to ourselves,” Harry’s eyes were fixed on the bottle too, now,”Er, I just brought it…in case…if…”His voice trailed off.

Draco was still half-dressed, and then decided it was better to just get it over and done with, and quickly got the rest of his clothes off.

_No, this was weirder._ He was standing there, naked and half hard, Harry’s eyes firm on him. Draco realised he’d have to walk all the way to the water like this. In reality it was only a few meters, but it felt like five hundred. What if he ran? Draco quickly pushed that thought out of his mind—he’d probably slip and break his neck. And even if he didn’t, things would…jiggle.

Slowly, and with as much dignity as he could muster, Draco made his way to the pool, and to Harry.

Harry’s eyes seemed to be trying to take in every inch of Draco’s body, and he licked his lips, the gesture sending a jolt through Draco.

The warm water lapped at Draco’s legs as he entered the pool, and as soon as he got close enough, Harry’s hand shot out to grab him, and pull him over to the bench next to him.

”Hi.” Harry’s whisper was breathless.

”Hi.” Draco tried to make his voice steady. He failed. ”What’s all this?”

”It’s the 20th, I though we should celebrate somehow.”

”The 20th?” Draco didn’t understand. And then he did. ”Oh.”

He had not pinned Potter for a hopeless romantic, and yet here they were. ”The kiss.”

”The kiss,” Harry agreed.

It had been a cold and rainy October night. They’d just lost against Gryffindor and Draco had locked himself in his room, sulking. He’d been convinced the team would find a way to blame this loss on him, too. Harry had come to check on him, and then, they’d kissed. They’d kissed every day since. Two months; it was nothing, and yet, it felt like forever.

Draco leaned in to kiss Harry, but the angle was awkward and Harry pulled him onto his lap, so that Draco was straddling him. It didn’t take long before they started to move against each other, hands touching everywhere they could reach. This was familiar, but Draco’s mind still went to that bottle sitting on the edge of the pool. He reached for it. Potter tensed.

”Draco…” Draco kissed him. He wanted this. What ever _this_ would turn into. Draco wordlessly took Harry’s hand and covered his fingers with the gingerbread-scented lube.

Harry’s fingers were circling, prodding, circling, prodding, dipping in slightly, and the circling again. This, too, was familiar. But Draco felt ready for more, and let Harry know.

Draco had always thought their first time doing this would be hot and frantic with uncontrolled lust. This was slow and sweet. They took their time, kisses long and languorous, hands and lips caressing every bit of skin they could find. Harry’s fingers gently pushing deeper, slowly opening Draco up. Draco’s fingers knotted in Harry’s hair, lips agains his neck.

When Harry finally sank into him Draco relished the burn, pleasure eventually winning over pain.

They started moving together again, the feeling of Harry inside him almost overwhelming. When Harry reached between them to close his fingers around Draco it didn’t take long before his mouth shaped an O and his world exploded. Clenching around Harry, Draco pulled him with him over the edge.

After, they stayed like that for quite some time, tangled together and simply breathing.


	21. December 21st - Holiday party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winter solstice and winter break, two excellent reasons for the eight-years to throw a party.

**December 21st - Holiday party**

It was Friday night and the Christmas holidays had officially begun. It was also the night of the Winter solstice. Padma, who was an excellent astronomy student, told them they could expect both a full moon and a meteor shower. The eight-years had decided to celebrate all of it by throwing a party in the common room.

Dean and Seamus had flooed back to Dean’s home, yet again, and this time come back with something they called ”a stereo.” It was like a wireless but you had to put in small silvery discs with music on them. They all came in little cases that looked like glass, but was made from something called ”plastic”.

Dean had only brought Christmas music, and Draco dearly hoped the song about Rudolph wasn’t on any of them. He was going to be disappointed.

Draco also hoped Pansy had made some more eggnog.

After helping to set up the food-table, Draco left the common room and the rest of the party preparations for Pansy, Dean, and the Patils to finish, so he could go and get changed. And maybe have a quick snog with Potter in private. He sped up his pace.

Fifteen minuets later, Draco could not believe he’d let Potter talk him into this. He’d mocked Blaise for thinking with his dick, but apparently, thinking with your heart made you just as much of a sucker.

He crossed his arms, pouting, accidentally setting off his jumper. Potter laughed. The sound almost made it worth wearing the jumper again. Really, he should have burned it when he had the chance.

Potter had been waiting for him in their room, and apparently thought it’d be a laugh if they both wore their reindeer jumpers to the party. To really top things off, he’d put on some antlerswith bells and handed a pair to Draco, along with a few hot kisses and the promise of making it up to him later. Fine, maybe it wasn’t _just_ his heart that did the thinking.

The weirdest thing about wearing these godawful matching jumpers again was that it made Draco feel like a part of something. That he belonged. That he and Harry had something together that the others weren’t a part of. The silly, matching jumpers said: ”Hey, look at us. We have something you don’t. We are both parts of a whole.”

It was an absurd thought, of course, but it was how Draco felt when wearing this stupid shirt. The antlers, though, were sending an other, additional message, Draco could have lived without: ”We are absolutely ridiculous, too.”

Draco sighed indignantly, they were going to be _that_ couple, weren’t they?

Draco stood at the buffet table and absentmindedly took a bite from a gingerbread cookie. He regretted it instantly. The taste bringing back flashes from last night, of hours and hours spent in the baths with Harry and later in their bed, and at once heat started pooling in his stomach. Potter was really ruining Christmas foods for him, Draco thought irritably, he could apparently no longer think of either gingerbread, frosting, or candy canes without getting aroused, and they’d come dangerously close to ruining whipped cream as well. Draco grimly wondered what would be next.

”What are you scowling about now. Did that cookie somehow offend you?” Harry’s voice was teasing. Draco, who hadn’t noticed him sneaking up, jumped a little, and then turned his scowl upon Harry instead.

”You try it,” Draco pushed the cookie against Harry’s lips, and he took a bite. ”Oh.” It was a very husky sounding _Oh_ , Draco thought, satisfied, and nodded triumphantly. A smirk on his face. ”Exactly.” His ears had turned slightly red.

”And this upsets you?” Harry looked amused. _Stupid Potter and his stupid grin._

Unbelievable. ”At this pace,” Draco ground out, ”by the end of January, I won’t be able to eat anything without getting a hard-on.” To his horror, Ron had just walked up to them, and had evidently caught that last piece of their conversation. His hand halted over the platter of sausage rolls, expression aghast.

”Eves-dropping, Weasley?” Draco all but snarled.

”Mate, I truly wish I hadn’t heard that, I’m just here for the food.” He held up a finger to Draco to silence any comments, ”I’m gonna go ahead and pretend I _didn’t_ hear it, I don’t fully understand what I heard anyway. And—I cannot stress this enough—I really, really, _really_ do not want to know.” He turned back to the food and started piling sausage rolls onto his plate. Typical Weasley, always stuffing this face. Draco would buy that git some sausage-roll-flavoured lube. See how he liked it.

Draco’s mood improved a second later when Harry stuck a glass of eggnog in his hand and kissed his cheek, ”I promise not to ruin eggnog for you. No eggnog-flavoured lube, condoms or massage oil. And” he added slyly, lips now against Draco’s ear, ”I’ll definitely never have you lick it off of any part of my body.” Draco choked on his nog. Blast!

Alcohol, Draco decided, turned people into idiots. For the 27th time someone poked him in the chest, setting off the jumper. Blaise was singing along to the Christmas songs and dancing with Seamus and Justin. Or maybe dancing was a strong word to use here—but ”moving erratically to music” was a mouthful.

And what did Draco do? He laughed, and danced and sang along to his jumper like an idiot. He shook his head, letting the bells on his antlers jingle along with the music. All with Harry at his side, who was being even more ridiculous, dancing as if his limbs lacked joints altogether. Draco thought he could feel his heart glowing. _No, that was Rudolph’s nose._

Draco licked the frothy eggnog from his upper lip and thought of Harry’s comment, _I’ll definitely never have you lick it off of any part of my body._ Melin, Draco wanted to dip Potter in a tub of this deliciousness and lick him clean. Again he felt all tingly and hot and flushed.

He’d have to live on Brussel sprouts and Steak pie for the rest of his life, there simply wasn’t anything remotely sexy about Brussel sprouts.

When the clock neared midnight, the partygoers put on heavy cloaks and wooly hats and headed to the Astronomy tower. They were warming their fingers on cups of hot cider, watching the meteor shower, and celebrating that the darkest night of the year was passing. Padma raised her glass in a toast, welcoming the light back.

After all the food and drinks and the warmth inside the common room, it felt good to be outside in the fresh air, and Draco didn’t mind the cold nipping at his face. Harry pulled him close and kissed his temple, and feeling a little dazed and tired Draco rested his head on Harry’s shoulder. This was nice, Draco thought. So nice. One day he’d very much like to dip Harry in eggnog, but tonight all he wanted to do was crawl into bed and fall asleep with his body wrappedtightly around Harry’s and his frozen nose resting against Harry’s hot skin.


	22. December 22nd - Sledding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snow brings out everybody's inner child.

**December 22nd - Sledding**

The weekends were almost the only time to get some daylight during this time of year, and it hadpractically become a tradition now for the eight-years to spend a few hours outside, doing something together.

Under the influence of alcohol last night, Hermione had suggested they’d all go sleighing down the slopes. Everyone had agreed enthusiastically. Today, to Draco’s surprise, people still seemed excited, even after little sleep. And some even had to brave the hills with slight hangovers.It was weird, Draco thought, how snow seemed to turn everybody into children again.

They didn’t have any proper sleighs, but that wouldn’t keep a school full of wizards and witches from hitting the slopes. Hermione pointed out, that not even Muggles needed sleighs to go sleighing—they could make a bum slider out of anything from old magazines to large baking trays.

Draco transformed an old chair to a 2-seated sleigh with cushions. Harry changed a plate from yesterday’s buffet table into a huge round bum slider that’d spin him all the way down the slopes.

Blaise had turned the underside of one of the common room rugs into some sort of metal, and bent the front, so you could glide down the slope on it, lying flat on your stomach.

Neville and Ernie had gone to the kitchens and packed large thermoses with hot chocolate and cheese sandwiches, for the lot of them. It was a jovial bunch heading for the slopes behind the castle.

Harry sat behind him on the sleigh, arms firm around Draco’s waist as Blaise gave them a push down the hill. Draco felt as if they were flying, and as they hit a few bumps he was thankful for having thought to add the cushions. Icy snow sprayed his face and he felt as if he were a kid again. They were going way too fast, yelling and laughing. This would end in disaster. They hit another bump, and crashed. Draco landed face first in the snow, and howled as snow found its way in at the opening at his neck. Harry had fallen out of the sleigh, too, and was on his back in the snow, huffing and cursing and laughing.

They heard a shout of warning and barely had time to get out of the way before Blaise whooshed past them on his giant belly-slider. Draco dearly hoped he’d land face first in the snow too.

They started making their way back up the hill again. Harry, the lazy git, was using magic to pull the sleigh. Luna and Hermione spun past them, sitting back to back shrieking with laughter, on Harry’s giant saucer. Really, it was as if they’d all gone to bed as eighteen and nineteen year olds, and woken up as ten year olds. 

”I can’t believe you can’t apparate on school grounds”, Blaise said annoyed, ”we shouldn’t have to walk up the blasted hill, we’re wizards.” Draco rolled his eyes.

”Your lazy arse could use the exercise, it’s starting to look a bit soft you know.” Pansy teased him. ”Like a marshmallow. But maybe Justin likes marshmallows.” Blaise aimed a snowball at her , andmissed. Pansy cackled.

Draco wondered if Harry’d still like his butt if it became marshmallow-soft. Maybe he should start to do a few squats between Quidditch practices. Draco kept trudging up the hill, he had started to sweat and his legs were a bit tired. He was in worse shape than he’d thought, or perhaps it was the hill’s fault. It was obviously too steep.

Draco looked over to where Blaise was standing next to Justin, gesturing to his own arse. He was surprised that Justin and Blaise still were a thing, it had been weeks. This ought to be a new record for Blaise.

After a few turns down the slope, Ginny and Pansy had had it, and quickly turned a fun and leisurely day into a bloody competition. They were zooming down the hill at break-neck speed, trying to sabotage the other by using magic. Draco, who liked his neck intact, opted out of the competition. As did the rest of the party, apart from Blaise.

Neville, who thought himself too accident prone for sleighing—Draco silently agreed—had stayed at the top of the hill, and was making a snowman. It really was too cold for that, but with a bit of magic, the snow held together. Draco and Harry abandoned the sleighs and helped Neville instead.

”You know,” Draco said, trying to transform the snowman’s nose into a carrot, ”when I was a kid, I used to build snow lanterns with my mother. And then we’d light them and sit inside by the fire, drink hot chocolate and look at the lights through the window. She’d always read me a story, too.” He hadn’t meant to share this, but the memory had come over him all of a sudden. Draco really missed her, thinking about her all alone at that Manor, was hard. Especially with the holidays coming up.

He’d been quiet for too long, and Harry’s hand was on his shoulder, squeezing.

Surprisingly, Neville said, ”I didn’t bring any candles, but maybe we could ask Hermione to help make some of those cold fires. I mean, if you want to build some lanterns.”

Draco shot a look at the slopes where the race had turned into a snowball fight, ”It seems safer than _that._ ” Which earned him a smile from both Harry and Longbottom.

Soon everyone but Pansy, Ginny and Blaise were building snow lanterns. (It seemed Pansy and Ginny had now ganged up on Blaise and was trying to bury him in the snow. Draco approved.) When they were finished with the lanterns, Hermione conjured up small fires for all of them. And Neville started to unpack the sandwiches and the hot chocolate. It was the most delicious meal Draco had ever had.

Later that night, after a hot shower and a nice bowl of stew, Draco and Harry were sitting in front of their fire, wearing their pyjamas.

Draco got out of his armchair and walked over to the window. He could see their snow lanterns glowing like tiny dots in the night. The sight warmed him a little. It had been a good day, he feltas if he was finally making some friends. Harry’s arms closed around him from behind.

”Looks pretty, doesn’t it?”

Draco hummed.

”I’ve been thinking about what you said, about your Mum.” Harry continued, ”I know you don’t want to go to the Manor yet, and I know she can’t leave it, but what if you talked to her through the fire? I can tell how much you miss her.”

Maybe Potter wasn’t as stupid as he looked. Draco leaned back, resting his head against Harry, but didn’t answer.

”Think about it.”

Harry let his hands trail down Draco’s arms until he reached his hands. He interlaced their fingers and lead Draco back to the fire. ”Would you read me another story?”

Draco did.


	23. December 23rd - Breakfast by the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Harry have a guest over for a lazy Sunday breakfast by the fire.

**December 23rd - Breakfast by the Fire**

****

_Think about it._

Draco hadn’t been able to do anything but since. He’d been tossing and turning all night.

Would it be better or worse to see her face? What if she looked worse than he’d thought, then he’d worry even more.

Draco still hadn’t heard anything back from his Father. Was he brave enough to ask his Mother about it? Was she in contact with his Father? Was his Father still sane enough to have contact with anyone?

At 3 am he’d had enough of his own brain and resolutely headed up to the Owlery to send a letter. In a few hours he’d be sitting in front of the fireplace, waiting for his Mother to appear. What if she didn’t? Draco’s stomach lurched.

Next to him, Harry was still sleeping, mouth open and snoring faintly. Would he ask him to leave when—if—Narcissa called, or did he want him there by his side?

Draco didn’t seem to have an answer for anything anymore. He sighed and turned toward Harry, sneaking his arms around him, burying his face in his unruly hair. He felt like crying.

Draco must have dozed off, when he woke, light was trickling into the room between the heavy curtains. He sat up with a jolt. _What time was it?_

Draco rummaged around for his watch. Merlin’s sweaty ballsack! They were two seconds away from his Mother flooing in on them naked in bed. Draco jumped out of bed, startling Harry awake. Pulling on his pyjamas he almost shouted at the half-sleeping Harry, “Get dressed. Now. Dressed.” He threw Harry’s pyjamas at him, it landed on his face. “Put them on. Now!” Why did the Boy Who Lived have to be so slow?

Finally, Harry was at least sitting up in bed. And to Draco’s horror, that’s when the fire turned green. He turned back to look at Harry only to see that he was still very much naked, but at least covered by the blankets. 

Merlin! Why did Harry have to look positively _debauched_ every single morning? It was the hair, Draco decided. And that slow grin. And maybe the fact that he always slept naked.

“Draco?”

Draco’s heart squeezed at the sound of his Mother’s voice. Tears stung his eyes. Draco turned to the fire, and there she was, her head floating amongst the green flames.

“Mother,” his voice was unsteady. He walked to the fireplace and knelt in front of it. _Why had he ever been nervous to see her?_

They sat like that, just looking at each other, until Harry interrupted him. (Thank Merlin, he was dressed!)

“Good morning,” he greeted Narcissa. ”Er, I’ll go see if I can find us some breakfast, shall I?” Draco felt grateful for Harry giving him some time alone with his Mother. And for getting breakfast—now that his neves had settled, he was starving. “Erm, can I get you something, too, Narcissa?”

“No, thank you, Dear.”

Draco was still kneeling on the floor in front of the fire, and Harry ran his fingers through his hair on his way out. His Mother’s keen eyes caught the affectionate gesture.

“It’s good to see you so happy, Draco.” Draco was a bit surprised when he realised that he really was, happy that is. It had just sneaked up on him, he supposed. Just like falling in love with Harry had.

He smiled at his Mother, ”I am. Happy.”

Draco knew the Ministry monitored Narcissa’s fireplace, watching any activity. He was almost certain that someone was looking in at their conversation. Draco wanted to flip them off, he wanted some privacy. And at the same time he didn’t care what they heard, he had no secrets, let those bastards watch.

”How are you holding up, Mother? I hate thinking about you alone in that house. Have you heard anything from Father?”

Narcissa’s smile faltered at this. ”Your Father is…Draco, your Father is struggling in Azkaban at the moment. He hasn’t written me much, lately, and as you know, I’m not allowed to visit him.”

He knew it probably shouldn’t, but his heart ached at this. He knew his Father was getting what he deserved, but he also knew how much his Mother loved him.

”I wrote him a short letter a while back, but he hasn’t responded. I wasn’t sure…” Draco trailed off.

”You weren’t sure whether it was because he wasn’t doing well or because he’d found out about you and Harry, and disapproved.” His Mother finished for him. _How could Mothers know so much?_

Draco nodded.

”I wish I could tell you that it’s because his not well, but I honestly don’t know, Draco. But, I know that your Father loves you a lot, and deep down, all he wants for you is to be happy. It’s just that sometimes he thinks he knows what makes you happy, better than you do.”

They fell silent as Potter came back in, carrying a large breakfast tray, laden with toast, eggs, crumpets, butter, and jams. There also seemed to be tea, coffee, and hot chocolate on it, too. Draco’s stomach rumbled.

Harry put the tray down on the table by the fire, and awkwardly said, ”Er, I didn’t know what you wanted so I got a bit of everything. I’ll leave you to it then, shall I?”

It was Narcissa who spoke first, ”No, please stay, Harry.” Harry looked to Draco, who nodded. ”I’d like to talk to the boy—man—who won my son’s heart.” To Draco’s delight, Potter seemed to blush a little at this, not as much as he himself did, though.

Harry and Draco both sat down in the armchairs and dug into the food.

They chatted for hours. Draco and Harry told Narcissa about how it had all begun. The filled in the parts the Quibbler hadn’t covered, and Draco told her about making other friends, too. Draco found it surprisingly easy to talk to her about these things, and told her—albeit, not in great detail— about their first kiss. Then about watching Muggle movies with the other eight-years, about building Gingerbread houses (he even got up and showed her their house) about snowball fights and ice skating and sledding. When he finally stopped talking, his throat was sore, and the breakfast was long gone. But there was a lightness in his heart he hadn’t felt for a long time, and a wide smile on his Mother’s face. But it was time to wrap things up.

”I’m so happy for you, Draco. For both of you. I always suspected there was something there…and then I feared that loving someone would be too hard for you, Draco. After the war. After everything.” She paused. ”I haven’t told you, but I’ve started to reconnect a little with my sister. Andromeda. The past few years have been hard on her, too. It hasn’t been easy for us to find our way back to each other, but it’s getting better. She and Teddy will even come over for Christmas dinner.” Harry seemed as surprised at this a Draco was.

”Really?”

”Really.”

This made Draco feel a tiny bit better. But still. “I hate to leave you, Mother. I hate that you’re all by yourself in that place.”

Narcissa smiled, “Don’t worry about me Draco, I get by. Just knowing that you’re safe and happy...it’s enough for me. Though,” she hesitated, “it would be nice to talk to you like this again sometime.” She added hastily, ”If you like.”

_Yes_. Draco felt even lighter. “What if we made it a weekly appointment?” He suggested.

Narcissa’s face lit up like the sun at the prospect of seeing her son once a week.

“That sounds wonderful, Draco.” A small smile was playing on her lips as she continued, ”But perhaps, in the future, it’s better if you call on me? To avoid any...well.” She gave the bed a meaningful glance, and Draco blushed furiously from head to toe. Blasted Potter and his nakedness, and his ability to wake up and look newly and thoroughly fucked every morning. Even when he wasn’t. Draco had to fight the urge to tell her that they’d been sleeping and just woken up. That, really, it was all very innocent. But saying that would only make it worse, make it sound like it wasn’t the least bit innocent at all.

”Yes, Mother.”

”You two take care of each other now. And Merry Christmas.” And with a pop, she was gone.

Harry grinned at him, ”So, I guessed you _did_ think about it then.”

”I couldn’t seem to be able to sleep until I’d sent her a letter, so after 3 o’clock I got up and sent one asking her to see me.” Draco admitted.

”I’m glad you did.” Potter’s smile turned mischievous ”just, next time, I’d love it if you let me know a bit earlier so I have some time to put my clothes on.”

Draco scowled and swatted at him. Harry caught his hand and pulled him in for a kiss.


	24. December 24th - Sleigh ride

**December** **24th -** **Sleigh** **ride**

_Come_ _see_ _me_ _at_ _me_ _hut_ _after_ _dinner_. _I’ve_ _a_ _treat_ _for_ _yeh_. _Bring_ _your_ _beau_.

- _Hagrid_

Harry showed Draco the note. ” _Beau_? Who uses _beau_?” Draco wondered in disbelief. Harry shrugged and laughed a little. “Hagrid?” They both laughed. Beau was such an unHagrid word.

Draco also wondered what the treat could possibly be, intensely hoping it wouldn’t be some sort of dessert—after a few visits to the hut, he was already too familiar with Hagrid’s cooking.

Straight after dinner they walked down across the lawn, the yellow glow through the windows of Hagrid’s hut the only light. The night was pitch black, but the sky was covered in stars. Draco lit his wand so they could see where they were going. He’d been down to visit Hagrid a few times on his own lately, in order to get everything set up around Harry’s present. The best thing about his visits had been a litter of kittens Hagrid had rescued. Draco hoped he’d get the chance to cuddle them today.

They could hear Fang barking as they approached the hut, and before they had a chance to knock on the door, it banged open and what appeared to be a bear walked out on its hind legs.

”Hello, Hagrid!” Potter said.

”Hullo you two, c’mon.” Draco couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed when Hagrid instead of inviting them in, led the way towards the forest. He really hoped the surprise wasn’t a dragon. Or a chimaera. Or anything else that would eat them alive. Draco would even prefer Hagrid’s cooking —broken teeth could be fixed, missing limbs not so much.

Tied up in the paddock were two thestrals. After the war, there weren’t many students who couldn’t see them. These thestrals seemed to be wearing black and red harnesses with bells, and were tied to a small sleigh.

”I thought you like to go for a ride. Nice an’ romantic.” Hagrid hesitated, ” I, er, double checked it with Olympe, she doesn’t seem to think I’ve got a good grasp on romance, but she said a wintery sleigh ride would be ok.” He looked awkwardly at them, hoping for reassurance. Harry smiled at him, ”It sounds brilliant.”

Hagrid beamed back, ”Consider this an early Christmas present then” Hagrid said, ”I’ve, er, improved the sleigh a bit” he said and patted his umbrella. Harry seemed to understand something Draco didn’t.

”Now, climb in, climb in, yeh don’t have ter worry, they know exactly where ter go. Just don’t lean over the sides.”

There were soft, warm furs in the sleigh, and Draco and Harry bundled up underneath them.The thestrals started trotting across the lawn, skirting the edge of the Forbidden Forest. They picked up their speed even more, and spread their wings. Draco should have known, a simple sleigh ride seemed too tame to come from Hagrid.

He gripped Harry’s hand tight as they started to ascend.

”I should have known this would happen when Hagrid said he’d ’improved’ the sleigh…” Harry’s voice sounded a bit strained.

”I guess this is why we’re not allowed to lean over the sides. We’d fall to our deaths.” Draco expected his life to flash before his eyes at any moment now. He closed is eyes and said, “Well, we had a good run you and I, I love you.”

But as soon as the ascent evened out, the flying became smoother and they both relaxed. This was brilliant, and romantic. The starry skies, the snow covered landscape, the warm fur-lined blankets, and the silence. Draco shifted closer to Harry as the thestrals brought them over frozen lakes and snowy mountaintops, the sound of their bells ringing through the night.

Draco was a bit worried about the descent, not to mention the landing. But for now he put it out of his mind and enjoyed the view and the warmth of Harry’s body, pressed close to his.

As Draco had feared, the landing wasn’t as smooth as one could have wished. But they made it in one piece, albeit a very frozen piece. They thanked Hagrid profusely, and the giant man smiled like a child on Christmas.

Back in their room, they were ready to defrost and sit down in front of the fire. But first Draco went for the bag of marshmallows he’d stolen from Pansy what felt like ages ago, and Harry had gone to get them some hot chocolate, and a new can of whipped cream from the kitchens. 

It was nice, sitting by the fire with Harry, in their pyjamas and dressing robes, sipping hot chocolate and toasting marshmallows. Draco thought it had turned out to be one of his favourite Christmas Eves so far.

There was only one thing that could make it better now. He longed to take Harry to bed. Undress him. Wrap his body around his. Kiss Harry’s neck and feel his pulse quicken underneath his lips. Taste the salty sweetness of his skin. Let his hands roam Harry’s body, fingers twisting in his hair. Sink deep into him. Push him over the edge. Fall asleep tangled up in him.

But all in good time, he wanted this night to last a bit longer. Draco took his marshmallow out of the fire and ate it straight from the skewer, barbaric as it may seem, it was a lot less sticky.

He looked at Harry, who looked back at him. Whipped cream on his nose, and grinning. Merlin, he loved this idiot so much.

Draco rolled his eyes as he reached out and wiped the cream away with his thumb. “Idiot.”

Harry just kept grinning, “I love you, too, Draco.” Then he leaned over and kissed him, and Draco forgot all about making the night last as long as possible. He got up and tugged Harry towards the bed while kissing him and undoing his robe.


	25. December 25th - Opening gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s Christmas morning, and time for everyone to open their presents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing and posting every day for 25 days has been insane! And hard! And kind of fun! And I’m totally having separation anxiety— I love these idiots!!!!
> 
> Thank you all for reading and for sticking with me and giving me all this love. 🥰
> 
> Happy holidays to you all!
> 
> Here comes the fluffiest chapter of ever...

**December** **25th** **-** **Opening** **gifts**

Harry woke up on Christmas morning to warm, soft skin pressed against his side, an arm slung across his chest, and a mop of blond hair covering his pillow. Draco, always impeccable while awake was, to Harry’s delight, a messy sleeper. Harry turned his head to look at him: sprawled on his stomach facedown in the pillow, hair covering half off his face, and —was that? yes it was—drool! Harry’s heart gave a squeeze.

He wanted to pull Draco closer and kiss him, but he didn’t want to wake him. Harry settled for turning on his side so he could reach his hand out and gently stroke the soft skin and taut muscle on Draco’s back.

Last night had been something else. First the sleigh ride, then the comfortable silence by the fire, toasting marshmallows and drinking hot chocolate. And then…Harry’s stomach jolted as he thought about the look on Draco’s face when he slowly, slowly pushed into him. Of the fiery kisses and gentle fingers. Of the brand new sensation of Draco inside him. Of the closeness. Harry swallowed, he was getting hard just thinking about it.

Next to him, Draco stirred. Harry’s hand had trailed lower, his fingers now drawing circles up and down Draco’s back and legs. Draco turned and opened his eyes.

”Merry Christmas.” His smile was slow. Harry kissed him, and murmured ”Merry Christmas” against his lips. He’d never get tired off waking up next to Draco.

Harry felt Draco’s body respond to his touches and kisses, and he rolled on top of him, pulling the cover over them both, hiding them from the world for a little bit longer.

***

The eight-years who had stayed at Hogwarts for the holidays had decided to open their Christmas presents together in the morning, and they had invited Ginny and Luna as well.When Harry and Draco finally joined the rest in the common room Hermione greeted them with hugs and mugs of hot chocolate. ”Merry Christmas!”

Under the tree, among the presents, a dog lay sleeping with a kitten curled between its front paws. Both with red bows around their necks. ”I think they are for you” she said to Draco and Harry.

Uncertain, they both went up to the tree, Draco gave Harry an awed look and bent down to pick up the still-sleeping kitten. ”You didn’t!” Draco couldn’t believe his eyes.

”Er, Hagrid said you seemed to like her the best.” Harry looked nervous. It was the grey and white kitten, with the tiniest pink little nose Draco had ever seen, that had clawed its way into Draco’s heart while he was visiting Hagrid. He buried his nose in her fur, ”She’s perfect.”

Draco gestured to the sleeping dog, ”Her name is Athena, she’s two years old and Hagrid and Hermione helped me to adopt her from one of those Muggle shelters. Her family abandoned her and she needed a new home.” All of a sudden, Draco felt as nervous as Harry had looked a few seconds ago. Draco knew Harry missed having a pet and that he still grieved Hedwig a lot, but he didn’t think he was ready for a new owl. ”I thought you’d like to take care of her.” If Harry wouldn’t, Draco would.

Harry beamed at him, ”She’s adopted?” Draco nodded. “Draco, that’s perfect.” He sat down on the floor next to the tree and petted the black and white dog. Draco sat down next to him, the kitten waking up in his arms. ”Hey girlie,” Harry tried. Athena opened one blue and one brow eye and peered up at him, her eyes shifted to Draco, whom she recognised instantly. She started wagging her tail, but didn’t get up straight away. Draco scratched her behind her ears. “You’ll stay with us now.” Draco’s family was growing rapidly.

Draco got up from the floor and carried the kitten over to one of the sofas and sat down. ”Look at your tiny pink nose and your tiny pink beans” Draco cooed at her, thumbing at her paws.

The little monster sunk its needle point teeth into Draco’s finger. ”Ow, you little bastard.” He tried to scowl at it, but couldn’t help himself, but lifted the monster up to kiss her tiny pink nose. For the second time this year, Draco had fallen in love.

He looked up and saw everybody staring at him, mouths agape. Draco’s soft side was out for every body to see. ”Oh, shut up” he said.

The kitten clawed her way up Draco’s shirt—great, he’d never have a whole shirt again—and snuggled up on his shoulder. He tried to give her an annoyed look, ”Are you a cat or a parrot?” She started purring, and Draco’s heart melted. ”Maybe I’ll call you Birdie. Or Monster.”

”Or Circe,” Hermione suggested.

”Or Love-muffin, or Lady Floof-a-lot, or… ”

”Shut up, you people. Not you Hermione, I quite like Circe.”

”Come on, time for the other gifts!” Ron called. ”Who wants to be Santa?”

Luna, already wearing a Santa’s hat, with tiny presents and bells sewn onto it, offered. She sat next to the tree, reading the tags out loud, using her wand to send them to the right person.

Draco was surprised at every gift he got, he hadn’t expected any. There even was a gift from Mrs Weasley.

There were a few gifts under the tree for Athena, too—from Hagrid, Hermione and Draco, they were the only ones who’d known about her after all—and one for the monster kitten. From Hagrid, Draco suspected.

Draco curiously opened his gift, and pulled out a knitted green jumper with a large ’D’ on the front.

”Sweet Merlin” Ron groaned, ”She’s made you a Weasley jumper.”

Ginny grinned at him, ”Congratulations, it means she’s accepted you as one of hers. Welcome to the family, Ferret-face.”

He was stunned into silence. Grinning, Harry pulled on an identical jumper, but with the letter H. Ron was wearing a maroon one, Hermione a beautiful purple one, Luna a yellow, and Ginny a pink that clashed terrifically with her hair. Draco lifted Monster Circe from his shoulder, where she was napping, and pulled on his shirt. Draco felt warm, inside and out.

They spent hours lounging in the common room, drinking tea and eating crumpets. Playing chess and trying to teach tricks to Athena. Everyone wanting to cuddle Circe.

Finally it was time to get ready for Christmas lunch in the Great Hall, and everyone collected their new things and left for their rooms.

“I can’t believe you adopted a puppy for me.” Harry’s eyes were soft. Draco shrugged, but didn’t have time to come up with an answer before Harry’s arms were tight around him. “Thank you.” Then he continued, “I love you, you know. You’re stuck with me now. And Athena. There’ll be dog hair on everything you own.”

Draco smiled, “And cat hair on every thing you own, since you’re stuck with me and the baby monster. But I know a good spell that removes it.” Harry laughed and Draco kissed him. “And you know, I love you, too.” They kissed some more. Draco finally pulled back, reluctantly. “We should get ready for the feast. But we really should decide on a ‘no pets on the bed’-rule.”

“Definitely,” Harry agreed. But they both knew it was a rule made for breaking.

They showered and put their Weasley jumpers back on again.

“Ready?” Harry reached for Draco’s hand, and together they headed for the Great Hall.


End file.
